He's Always There
by adder574
Summary: Auction fic writen for Sylia91. Dean's always been there to look after John and Sam. How would they cope without him as a buffer.
1. Chapter 1

He's Always There

Disclaimer: Still don't own

This story is writen for K Hanna Korossy's Fan Fic auction and is dedicated to Sylia91 for her generosity in helping a fellow fan fic writer. The auction raised over $1600

Summary: Dean's always there whenever Sam and John need him. Sylia91 requested a fic about how John and Sam would cope without Dean as a buffer. This is not a death fic, and Dean's still in it plenty. TeenChester, Dean is 17 and Sam is 13.

A/N: Thanks to Ridley C. James for letting me borrow her concept for the subject of Dean's essay.

A/N: The usual thanks also go out to Soar for agreeing to beta this, and for her continued support and encouragment. Thanks also goes to Sinead-Conlan and JuliaAurelia for their feedback.

A/N3: I know that I have other stories that are still waiting to be updated and I promise I am still working on them, this was for such a good cause I couldn't say no. I do have several prewritten chapters so it shouldn't be too long between updates.

_**BBBBBBBZZZZZZZZZ**_

A loud groan accompanied the buzzing alarm clock. A short time later, a hand snaked out from under a mound of blankets, smacked the snooze button, and quickly made its way back under the covers.

It seemed like he had just gotten back to sleep when the annoying sound resonated again throughout the small room.

"'Time is it?" A sleepy voice mumbled from the bed on the opposite side of the room.

"5:30," the boy answered tiredly as he tried to stifle a yawn. _Damn, 5:30am came early_.

"It's too early," thirteen year old Sam Winchester whined as he snuggled deeper into his blankets.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said. "Go back to sleep, I'll wake you at 7:00 like usual."

"Why you getting up so early?"

17 year old Dean Winchester reluctantly threw the blankets off, shivering slightly in the cool morning air. "Go back to sleep," he said again.

Sam rolled over and looked at his brother. "You didn't do your homework last night, did you?" Sam accused. "Dad said if you got any more detentions..." he trailed off.

"I got it covered, Sammy," Dean said with an air of confidence.

"I hope so," Sam said and turned so that he was facing the wall once again.

Dean rose from his bed and grabbed the threadbare robe that was hanging on the back of the bedroom door. He really needed a new one, but money was tight and Dean knew that the last thing money would be spent on was a new housecoat. He wrapped it tighter around himself and, gave one last, longing glance at his bed before exiting the bedroom and stepping out into the kitchen.

The first task to be completed on this early winter morning was to plug in the coffee maker. He could hear the wind whipping around outside and he knew it was probably freezing out. While it was nice that they had rented a house instead of staying in a motel, it also meant extra expenses. Utilities had to be paid and heat was expensive and money was tight, so Dean usually kept it low and bundled up with sweaters or blankets. He needed to keep a tight rein on the money if he wanted to have enough for the rent and groceries.

To try and stretch the money to make ends meet, Dean had joined a mentoring program at school. He was paid 5 dollars an hour to tutor students in math. He usually worked for two hours, twice a week. 20 bucks didn't go far, but it did make sure that he and Sam wouldn't starve, and it was paying for his brother's upcoming field trip to the planetarium.

When the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, Dean opened the cupboard, grabbed his favorite mug, and poured himself a full cup of the steaming liquid, wrapping his hand tightly around the hot cup, trying to warm his hands.

He sat down at the table with his backpack, unzipped it, and pulled out his history textbook and tried to study for his test.

It was tough to concentrate because he was so tired. It had been after 1 am before he'd gotten to bed the night before.

Dean rarely had a spare moment to himself. He was in school from 9 to 4, Monday to Friday. After school, Sammy usually had some activity to go to, or he needed a ride to his friend's house.

While Sam was occupied, Dean usually tried to get the household chores done. One would think that a single man who was rarely home, and two teenage sons who were mostly left on their own, would have a messy house. Nothing could be further from the truth. John Winchester was an ex-marine and Dean was expected to keep the house in tip-top shape.

It was easier said than done. The house John had rented had definitely seen better days. The paint was chipped and peeling. The windows were all draughty, and there was a leak under the kitchen sink, which Dean had already tried to repair three times. The floor was stained and no matter how many times Dean scrubbed it, it just wouldn't come clean. He knew he should call the landlord about the sink, but Dean had a feeling the guy wouldn't come anyway, and it went against the number one rule that he was expected to follow at all times.

Look out for Sammy.

Calling the landlord could alert someone to the fact that two young boys were by themselves. Someone could get nosy and ask too many questions. Dean had hunted and killed things that nightmares were made of without flinching, but nothing scared him more than those three letters, CPS. Child Protective Services. No, he couldn't risk someone coming and taking Sammy. He couldn't let his family down like that. His dad was counting on him.

After chores, Dean helped Sam with his homework, and the brothers did the physical training and Latin exercises that their father insisted on, or he researched for his father if John called and needed help.

Dean really didn't mind helping out, he would do anything for his family, but sometimes, he just wished there were more hours in the day, or it was summer and he didn't have to go to school, or even better, that his father would let him drop out. He had already approached his father and asked if he could, but John made it clear that wasn't happening.

With all his other responsibilities, it wasn't surprising that all this was taking its toll on Dean's school work. It wasn't that he didn't understand the work, or didn't want to do his homework; it all came down to time. Schoolwork was last on Dean's priority list. There were several times when Dean just didn't bother to do it. If he was lucky, he was in an over crowded school with teachers who were overworked, or burnt out, or just didn't care.

Right now, he wasn't so lucky, though. They had managed to find a house that was in a decent neighborhood, and the local high school teachers actually cared when they saw one of their students not working to his or her potential.

Dean found himself in detention every time he failed to turn in homework. Then the phone calls started. John Winchester had not been pleased when he had gotten a phone call when he was away on a hunt. He laid down the law with his eldest. No more missed tests, late assignments, or incomplete homework assignments or else.

He was trying, he really was. The problem was that his father wasn't helping the situation any.

When Dean had gotten home from school last night, he had fully intended to spend the whole evening catching up. He had a major creative writing assignment for English, a big test in history, plus physics, social studies and French assignments to complete.

Since his father wasn't due back, Dean had decided he would skip the chores and catch up on them that weekend. Then the phone rang.

John had run into a snag on his hunt. He and Caleb were hunting a fear demon and they needed to know how to block the thing from exposing their worst fears. John couldn't find anything on them in the local library and he wanted his son to try and find something.

Dean knew, without a doubt, that the local library wasn't going to have much, if anything. He knew that he was going to have to drive about 15 miles to the university in the next town. Caleb and his father had gone to the hunt in the Impala, and the Winchesters' friend had left his car for Dean to use so the boys weren't stuck without transportation.

At the university, Dean smooth talked his way in, and looked up the information his father needed. It hadn't taken too long as this library had an impressive set of folklore and mythology books. What had delayed him was that Sam was in his element. He didn't want to leave. He was so excited by all the books that they had stayed and extra hour and a half. Dean cursed himself and wished he had brought his homework with him. He did get some paper and a pencil off Sam and jotted down some ideas for his writing assignment.

When they got home, it was after 8, and Dean got supper for Sam. He had almost been tempted to stop for pizza, but they desperately needed groceries and couldn't afford it. After a quick dinner of macaroni and cheese, they had to do the Latin exercises that their father insisted they complete daily. Dean knew they should be doing their physical training, but it was getting late and he still hadn't started his homework.

He wasn't even sure what he wrote on his physics essay. He read the assigned chapter for social studies and conjugated verbs for French.

For English, they had to write an original short story, so Dean knew that he couldn't just regurgitate the events of a hunt, they were based on urban legends. One of the things on his list was his life story. It would certainly make for interesting reading and it certainly sounded like fiction, as no one would believe it.

An idea occurred to Dean. Maybe he could write it and just change a few things. He worked long and hard making up a story that contained fire beasts and dragons and princes and princesses. Dean smiled when he finished it. It wasn't often he was proud of something he had done for school, but he was proud of his story. Maybe he would even get a B or B+, and his father would be proud of him too.

The only problem was that by the time he had finished, it was after 1 am. This was why he had set the alarm for 5:30 am, and was sitting here shivering in the cold morning, trying to study for his history test.

-----

About an hour later, Dean looked at his watch, put down his history book and stretched as he rose to go call his brother. Making his way over to the fridge, he groaned as he realized that couldn't put off getting groceries any longer. Today was also the day he was scheduled to work at the student resource center, so he'd be late getting out of school, and there was no way he could skip the physical workouts two days in a row. His creative writing assignment was done, but he also had a book report due and he still had three more chapters to read in his book.

He just wondered where he was going to find the time. As much as he hated to, he would have to tell Sam no if he wanted to do something after school.

"Morning, Dean," Sam said as he came into the kitchen and accepted his pancakes.

"Morning, Sammy," Dean replied as he sat down next to his brother.

"I can't wait for school to finish today, my friend Tom said I could come over to his house to play his new Nintendo game," Sam said excitedly.

"Um, Sam…" Dean didn't want to say no, but he had to. There was too much to do.

"I told Tom you'd give us a lift. No need for his mom to make an extra trip, right Dean?"

"I have to work at the student resource center. I don't think I can..."

"Come on, Dean. It's the new Mario brothers."

"Alright, I'll drop you off and then I'll head back to school." He couldn't disappoint Sam.

"Why don't you just skip it for today?"

_Because the 10 bucks I'm going to earn is what's going to feed you tomorrow. _"I made a commitment," was what he said out loud. "I'll come back for you after 2 hours. That's its, Sam. We have to get in some sparring and do our Latin. Plus we have our homework."

"Thanks Dean, you're the best," Sam said with a smile.

-----

School seemed to drag on forever that day. All Dean wanted to do was find a dark corner and catch a nap. He knew he had failed his history test. He wasn't sure, but he thought he might have actually drifted off for a couple of minutes. He had four questions left and 10 minutes of time and the next thing he knew, the bell had rung, and the four questions were still unanswered. This meant that his father was getting another phone call. He skipped lunch and went to the library to try and do a bit of reading. He was in such a bad mood by the time he got to English, he was convinced the story he had been so proud of the night before was complete crap and he was getting another F. After school, he dropped Sam off and went back to the resource room where he was a half hour late, so he only earned $7.50, rather than his full $10.

More than one time that day, he wished he could just drop out, but his father had threatened him with bodily harm if he tried. Maybe he could skip school for one day. _Maybe I could just kill myself and save dad the trouble._

After picking up Sam, Dean spent the last of the money on groceries and really hoped his dad didn't get hung up. The 20 bucks a week Dean earned wouldn't go far, especially since rent was coming due.

------

Jessica Monroe sat at her desk as she dismissed her class of 11th grade English students. School had ended for the day and she wanted to get started on grading the essays.

She gave this assignment ever year, hoping to finally have a student that showed some originality with their creative writing assignment.

She finished grading one student's story, which was basically just sleeping beauty with a different title when she came across Dean Winchester's.

"In The Company of Dragons," she read the title out loud. "Wonder what this one was based on?" She was very pleasantly surprised.

The story revolved around young Prince Samuel, whose mother had been killed by an evil fire beast. After the queen's death, Samuel was taken to the castle of the benevolent Astorim, a white dragon who looked out for all the dragons in his kingdom, and offered shelter to those that needed it. At the castle, Samuel came under the protection of three dragons. Onathan'Jay, the black dragon, who was leader, Belac, the red dragon and second in command, and Athewm, the green dragon, who was a sentinel dragon is training.

Although the plot was simple, the story had everything. There was love, Onathan'Jay had been in love with Prince Samuel's mother and would stop at nothing to get revenge. He even sometimes put that in the way of his duties to the other dragons. The loyalty and the devotion of Athewm to keep Samuel safe was heartfelt. Jessica could really feel the bond between the two characters, as if they were real instead of fictional. The friendship between Belac and Athewm was extremely well portrayed. The verbal sparring matches between them had made her laugh, but you got a clear sense of Belac's unyielding support of Athewm and the prince, and his desire to keep both of them safe. There was action, a big battle between the fire beast and the dragons. She cried with happiness when, at the end of the story, Athewm's wish for them to all be a family came true and they lived happily ever after in Astorim's castle.

Jessica set down the essay and wiped a tear from her eye. Dean had a real gift for story telling. She didn't even hesitate to mark a big A+ across the cover, despite some weakness in grammar and spelling. Jessica felt the story actually had the potential to be written into a multi-chapter fiction story and published.

This confirmed what Jessica had suspected, that if Dean wasn't lazy and put a bit of effort into his work, he'd be a straight A student.

Her eyes landed on a brochure that was sitting on the corner of her desk. It was for a student writing competition called Future Writers. It was a really big deal to win. The winning story received a $1000 in cash, and the essay was published in Education Quarterly, which was a popular magazine in academic circles. Plus the student's school also received a donation. Jessica had heard of students that had won the competition who often received academic scholarships to university. The organizers even came to the school and there was an awards ceremony for the winning applicant.

She grabbed the entry form and sent off Dean's essay. She felt Dean had a real shot at winning.

-----

One Week later

Jessica was sitting at her desk trying to keep the smile off her face. She had gotten word that Dean's story had taken first place, as she had known it would, and the awards ceremony was going to take place in another week, during the end of term presentations. She couldn't wait to tell him.

"Good afternoon class," Ms. Monroe greeted her students. "I have your stories that I want to hand back to you. Then we'll go over the areas where I found most of you were struggling."

Dean slouched in his desk trying not be noticed. He was already in trouble with his dad for failing his history test. To say his father hadn't been pleased was an understatement, when he had returned from his hunt to a phone call informing him that if Dean's grades didn't improve, he was going to have to go to the resource room for tutoring. Dean had gotten a lecture from his father that he had better shape up. He was dreading getting his essay back and showing his father another F.

"There was one A+ in this class."

The classroom started buzzing with student comments. Ms. Monroe was a tough grader and an A+ was rare in her class.

"The story was so good I entered it in the Future Writers contest."

One of the students, Alana Macgregor, smiled. It had to be her. She was the teacher's pet. She opened her mouth to accept the award and the words died on her lips when the teacher made her announcement.

"The story won first place. One week from Monday, at the end of term awards ceremony, there will be a special prize awarded to Dean Winchester for his story In the Company of Dragons. Congratulations Dean," Ms. Monroe said as she handed Dean back his essay.

Dean didn't even try to keep the smile off his face. He hadn't even really put any effort into that story and it had gotten him an A+. Suddenly, none of his other problems mattered. He couldn't wait to get home and tell his father.

-----

"Dad, guess what?" Dean said excitedly when he got home that day.

"What Dean?" John said with a touch of irritation in his voice. He was researching a hunt. He thought he had gotten wind of a succubus and was trying to do some preliminary research.

"I got an A+ on my English story."

"About time," John said dismissively. "I can't afford to have you tied up at school for extra tutoring."

"That's great, Dean," Sam said sincerely.

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean said, glad at least one person was happy for him. He had hoped to use the money to get a second hand car. He and his dad could fix it up. "That's not the best part. It won a writing contest and next week, there's an end of term awards ceremony and I'm getting a prize. There's a plaque and a check. It's a 1000 dollars dad, maybe I could get a second hand car so that..."

"The Impala needs a new transmission," John interrupted.

"I could use some new clothes. My pants are getting way too short," Sam added.

"When do you get the check?" John inquired.

"Next Monday. Will you and Sam come to the..."

John cut him off. "Any way to get it sooner?"

"Um, I don't think so," Dean replied. His good mood was deflating faster than a popped balloon. He should have known better than to try and talk to his father when he was researching a hunt.

"Hopefully I won't need to leave before you get it," John replied. "You boys go start your homework."

"Dad, the award ceremony, you and Sam are coming, right?"

"If I can," John said and Dean wondered if his father had even really heard his request.

"Sure dad. It's not a big deal," Dean said trying to pretend it didn't matter. To his utter, humiliation, he could feel tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. He should never have said anything. His wish of wanting his father to see him walk across the stage and have everybody clap for him, seeing his dad smile and say 'that's my boy' to the person sitting next to him, quickly faded. It was replaced by a new one. He wished he knew how to make his father proud of him.

"Can you go the university and bring me back some books?"

"Sure dad," Dean said, grateful for the escape.

John watched as Dean walked out of the room, a smile gracing his lips. He was proud of Dean. _Why didn't you tell him that then, you idiot? _

John heard Sam ask to go with his brother again, and Dean telling him to get his jacket. Making a decision, John decided that he was going to go with them and that he wanted to read his son's essay, so he put down his books and got up, hoping to catch Dean before he left. No sooner had he gotten out of the chair than he heard the front door slam shut.

In the car, Dean looked over at his brother. "Sammy," Dean said to his brother. "Like, I told dad, it's not big deal if you can't come. I'm not even sure I want to go myself, but if I do, would you like to see me get my award?" He hoped he sounded like this was no big deal, despite the fact that, to him, it was.

"Sure, Dean," Sam said not even looking up from his book.

-----

Over the following week, Dean tried to save his tutoring money to see if he could get a second hand suit jacket. The one he had was too small in the arms and was stained. He had surprised himself by how much he was looking forward to the ceremony. He was proud of his accomplishment and the money would benefit his family.

The day of the actual award presentation did not start out very well. The first thing Dean found when he woke up that morning was a note from his father telling him that he had something to check out, and that there was a list of chores and errands he needed Dean to complete.

Dean bit back a groan when he saw how long it was. It would take most of the day to complete, and it would be really cutting it close to the start of the presentation. Not only that, his father had the car, so he was going to have to take the bus.

He dropped Sam off at a friend's house, knowing that it would be quicker if he was by himself. When he was done, he got home a half hour before he had to be at the school. A super quick shower and he should just be on time.

When he got out of the bathroom, he found his father waiting for him.

"Dean, I need you to go back to the university tonight. That succubus turned out to be an incubus. I'm back at square one."

"But..." Dean started. He couldn't. He would be late.

"Problem?" John asked, his tone implying there better not be.

"No," Dean said despondently. He had been told that his award was the last one being given out. He could be late. He didn't necessarily have to be there right at the start.

"Dean, on the way back, I told Tom and Mark you didn't mind picking them up. Dad said we could go to Fun Zone," Sam said naming a popular hang out for the junior high crowd. It was a recreation place that had an arcade and mini-put and other things. They had also just opened the new go-kart track.

"When was this?" Dean asked.

"Friday," Sam said.

"Were you planning on asking me?" Dean asked, a touch of irritation in his tone. If Sam was at Fun Zone, Dean was expected to stay and keep an eye on him.

"Sorry," Sam replied in a tone that was anything but. "I forgot. It's not like you had plans anyway."

For the life of them, Sam and John couldn't understand why Dean looked like he had just been physically slapped.

"Dean?" John questioned as a thought slipped into his mind, but wouldn't make itself known.

Dean slammed his mask into place quickly. They forgot. They had both forgot. His one big accomplishment and they had forgot. Oh well, it was just a stupid plaque anyway, and the check they could just mail to him. What was the big deal about this stupid award anyway? It didn't mean anything.

"Nothing dad," Dean blurted out. "You know me. Never any plans," he said sarcastically. "Come on Sam. Dad's waiting for his research."

Dean decided then and there to blow off the presentation. He and Sam went to the library and got John's information. On their way back, he couldn't help but think of the ceremony that was starting without him. _I don't care about it, he told himself._

The wind was picking up and it was snowing. Dean was so busy trying to convince himself that he didn't care about anything, that he wasn't paying as much attention as he normally would.

He pulled up to an intersection and stopped for the red light. When it turned green, he robotically stepped on the pedal and pulled into the intersection. He didn't see the drunk driver go right through the red light.

The next thing he heard was the sound of grinding, crashing metal, and a sharp pain in his left leg before everything went dark.

TBC

Please read and review.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for all your reviews everyone. I'm sorry that I haven't replied to everyone personally yet. I have them stored in my inbox so I will get to them eventually.

Thanks, as always, goes to Soar, JuliaAurelia, and Sinead-Conlan who all helped with this chapter.

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still don't own.

Putting the finishing touches on his journal notes, John laid down his pen and stretched. He'd been hunched over the table for the last 35 minutes, trying to formulate a plan of attack for the incubus.

He had been pouring over the information he'd gotten on a succubus, trying to find out where he went wrong, and why he could have made such a big error. Mistakes like that couldn't be tolerated, they could cost you your life.

Even after a half hour, he was still trying pinpoint the exact spot where he'd gone wrong, but he was having a lot of trouble concentrating. He kept feeling like he was forgetting something big.

He checked his watch and wished he'd asked the boys to come back here first from the library before they went to fun zone. He wouldn't normally allow it, but the boys were off school for the next two days for end of term, and he had said yes because he wanted to take them with him on this hunt. He figured if he let Sam go out for an evening with his friends, he was a lot less likely to object to going hunting.

He had just finished recording what he knew about an incubus and he wished he could afford a computer. His hunting buddy Jefferson had told him about this thing called the internet, and how you could find anything with a few key strokes. He wanted to see that. It would save a lot of time on research.

Realizing there was not much more he could do before the boys got back, John went to the fridge looking for a beer. He opened the door and realized there was none to be found. He went to get his wallet and realized that it was as bare as the fridge. He'd have to send Dean to go hustle pool tomorrow. The kid was good. Not as good as his old man yet, but he was getting there. Maybe he could find a poker game as well. Dean's skills there far outranked John's. He couldn't wait until Dean was a couple years older and he could take him to Vegas.

Patience was never John's strong suit. The TV only got 3 channels and there was nothing on and he had nothing else to do. He couldn't wait to get the information he needed and go hunting. There was nothing like the thrill and adrenaline rush of taking out some supernatural fugly. He hoped it would be enough to pull Dean out of the funk he'd been in the last week.

He couldn't figure it out. It seemed like something was bothering Dean, but when John asked, he said he was fine. John wondered if there was some girl Dean wanted to go out with. Maybe she had turned him down. He doubted it though, because Dean usually rebounded quickly. If someone shot him down, and it didn't happen often, kid was a Winchester after all, he accepted defeat and moved on. John had drilled into his son's head from an early age that no means no.

He didn't think that was it though. The look on Dean's face when Sam had informed him that he had no plans flashed in his mind. Dean had thought he had successfully hid it, but John knew his boy. For whatever reason, that statement had hurt Dean badly, and John was at a loss to know why. That nagging feeling that the answer was right in front of him flared up again.

Deciding he needed beer, he went down the hall to the boys' room. Dean had told him that he'd had 30 dollars in there if he needed it for emergencies. Pushing down the guilt, as beer wasn't really an emergency, he pulled open the desk drawer and found the money. He pulled out 10 bucks and put the rest back and closed the drawer.

The garbage can was sitting next to the dresser and when John went to stand up, the red marking on the cover caught his eye. _Maybe that was why Dean was sulking. Maybe he had failed another test. If he had tried to hide it... his thoughts trailed off._

He looked down and saw the A+ on the cover, right above Dean's name and the title of the report, In the Company of Dragons. Suddenly that thought made itself known, loud and clear.

About a week ago, Dean had come home from school excited that he could show his father the A+ he'd earned in his weakest subject. He'd even won an award.

"Crap," John said out loud. The award Dean won with this essay. There was an award ceremony where Dean was getting a plaque and a check. He'd asked his dad and brother to go see him be honored for his accomplishment.

Guilt came crashing down on John's shoulder. It was so bad it threatened to overwhelm him. He had been on Dean's case about his school work for weeks now, telling him to buckle down, and Dean had done just that. He'd done so well that he'd won something and he wanted his father to see that he was trying. Dean, who never asked for anything in his life, had asked his father and brother to do this one thing for him, and they had both forgotten.

_If we were there, I should be the one getting an award, John thought to himself._ "Worst father of the year goes to John Winchester," he said out loud. What was hitting him the hardest was that Dean had thrown the story in the garbage.

He didn't care what he had to do, but he was going to make this up to his son. He'd go hustle pool and get some money, and when Dean and Sam came home, he'd take them out to celebrate, but before he could do any of that, there was one thing he had to do.

John pulled the chair out from behind the desk, sat down, and began to read.

-----

_**RING RING**_

John groaned when he heard the phone start to ring. He was just getting to the good part. Onathan'Jay, John felt proud that he was in Dean's story, had just found out where the fire beast lived and was going to go take it out. He didn't want to stop. He wanted to see if the black dragon won.

_**RING RING**_

Reluctantly, John put down the story and went to go answer the phone.

_**RING RING**_

_Hold your horses, I'm coming already, he thought irritably._

_**RING RING**_

Suddenly, a cold feeling overcame the hunter, and he didn't want to pick up that phone. _Stop being so paranoid. It's probably the school wondering where Dean was. Just what are you going to tell them? Dean wasn't there because you're an inconsiderate asshole. _

_**RING RING**_

Grabbing the phone from its cradle, John held it up to his ear. "What?" he growled.

"Is this John Winchester?" came a timid voice on the other end.

"Why?" he shot back.

"I need to get in touch with him. This is Alice MacIntyre. I work at reception at County General Hospital. "

All color drained from John's face. He felt like his heart was about to beat right out of his chest. _Oh God, no._ He was a terrible father, but his boys were all he had. He couldn't lose them.

"This is John," he said trying to keep his voice from shaking, all the while praying to a god he didn't believe in that she wasn't about to say what he thought she was going to say.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Winchester, but there's been an accident."

-----

The double doors to the emergency room burst open and a frantic man stormed through. When he had gotten the news of the accident, John had dropped the phone and ran next door, asking to borrow their car. He was glad that they had said yes, because if they had said no, John was just going to hotwire it anyway.

He pushed two interns out of the way and ignoring the death glares, he rushed up to the administration desk and pushed another man away from the counter.

"You called me," he said frantically. "My boys, where are they?"

"First you have to calm down, sir," the young receptionist said to the distraught man.

_**"Don't tell me to calm down, damn it. Someone here calls me and tells me that I need to get here as soon as possible because there was an accident and my boys were involved, and I'm expected to be calm? What kind of drugs are you smoking, lady?"**_

"If you can't behave in a civilized manner, I will have you removed," she said firmly.

"Listen, you little..." John started, his tone growing deadly.

"It's okay, Alice, I got this," a uniformed officer said coming over. He had a feeling he knew who this was, and he reached out a hand and laid it on the man's shoulder, hoping to offer a bit of comfort.

Bad idea. John shook it off and almost took a swing at the officer, but he managed to restrain himself. He did not need to get himself arrested. "Back off," he growled. "I don't want trouble. I just want to find my boys."

"If you would ca..." the officer paused. The words calm down seemed to have an opposite effect. "Listen," he substituted. "Are you John Winchester?"

"Yes. Where are Dean and Sam? They're okay, right? Tell me they're okay?" John pleaded as the adrenaline started to wear off and the fight drained out of him.

"Come with me," the officer said trying to lead him away.

"Just tell me where Sam and Dean are, please," he said all but begging. "They... I need... where are they?" he growled, but there was no force behind it.

"I'm Officer Reese," the uniformed man said. "I was the responding officer at the scene."

"I don't give a flying fu..." John yelled, his anger starting to make a come back. He was so close and no one would tell him anything.

"Mr. Winchester," the officer said cutting him off. "If you would let me speak, I was asked to wait here and bring you to the paediatric unit when you arrived."

"Are they okay?" John repeated.

"I don't know," Officer Reese said honestly as he led John toward the elevator. "I just know that the younger boy..."

"Sammy," John interrupted.

"Sammy," Officer Reese repeated. "He was conscious when the ambulance arrived. He was screaming bloody murder when we pulled him away from his brother. Healthy set of lungs on that one."

"That's Sammy alright. What about Dean?"

"We're still investigating, but from what we can tell, a drunk driver ran the light and slammed into the driver's side of the car. Dean wasn't conscious at the scene, but he was breathing," Officer Reese added quickly. "He was pinned in the car and it took a bit of effort to get him out. That's about all I know at this point."

Before John could say anything, the elevator doors pinged and John and the officer stepped out. Officer Reese had a few words with the nurse at the desk and soon John found himself being led to a private waiting room, and told the doctor would be with him shortly.

John paced back and forth in the small room. He was giving them five minutes and then he was going to go find his sons, even if he had to bust down every door in this god damn hospital to do it.

Just as he was about to go storming off, a man showed up.

"Mr. Winchester, I'm Dr. Perry. Your son, Sam, is under my care."

"How is he?" John blurted out.

"First, I want to put your mind at ease. Both your sons should be fine."

John visibly sagged with relief. The last of his adrenaline finally wore off and he sat down heavily. "Can I see them?" he requested.

"I'll take you to see Sam in a minute."

"What about Dean?" John said, fear creeping into his voice.

"Dean's in surgery."

"You said he was alright," John accused.

"He was stable when they took him to the OR. Mr. Winchester, let me say your boys were lucky."

"Never mind the platitudes. Just tell me," John said trying to keep his temper under control. Now that he had confirmation that his sons would be fine, it was flaring up again.

"Sam escaped with minor injuries. He has some cuts and bruises. One of the cuts on his arm needed seven stitches, but the scarring should be minimal. He's got a nasty black eye, and he banged his head, but he fortunately doesn't seem to have a concussion. His right wrist is swollen, but X-rays revealed it was just a bad sprain and not broken. He'll need to take it easy for the next few days as he's going to be sore. We're going to hold him overnight for observation, but we're not expecting any complications."

"Dean?" John asked. "You said he's in surgery?"

"Yes. He was unconscious at the scene, but he was breathing on his own when he was brought into the ER. Like Sam, he has several cuts and contusions."

"I'm hearing a but in there," John said worriedly.

"Dean's left leg was badly broken. The medical term is a compound, comminuted fracture of the femur."

"You'll have to speak English," John requested. _Damn doctors_.

"A comminuted fracture means that there is more than one fracture line in the bone, and 2 or more fragments at the fracture site. One of the bone fragments broke through the skin, which is what a compound fracture is. He was extremely lucky that the fragments didn't hit the femoral artery bundle in his leg. As it was, he lost a lot of blood, so between that and the shock, it's not surprising he didn't regain consciousness before he went into surgery."

A new fear struck John. He didn't want to ask the doctor the question that had suddenly popped into his mind.

"His leg... it's going to... I mean he's not... you don't..." he couldn't even say the word.

"Amputate?" the doctor supplied. John nodded. "I doubt it. We have a top notch orthopaedics department here. Dean's going to be looking at a long recovery, though. The surgeon will be able to tell you more. So if you want to follow me, I'll take you to see Sam and you can wait with him until Dr. Curtis, who's operating on Dean, can come see you."

"Thanks doc," John said as he rose and followed Dr. Perry out the door.

-----

"Sam, will you please take these," a nurse said to the stubborn boy in the bed.

"No," he said firmly. "I want my brother. Where is he? Why won't anyone tell me where he is?"

"Sam," John said with relief. He'd never thought he'd say this, but the sound of Sam complaining was music to his ears.

Sam's attention was directed toward the doorway of the room. "Dad," he said sounding a lot younger than his 13 years.

"I'm here, Sammy," John went directly to the bed and hugged his youngest.

Sam couldn't hold back anymore. "Daddy," he said as his fears came out of him. "There was so much blood and Dean wouldn't wake up. They won't tell me anything. Where's Dean, daddy?" Sam sobbed.

"He's going to be okay, Sammy. The doctors are fixing him now," John said hugging his youngest son tight. The daddy had almost done him in. "He's going to be okay."

"Excuse me," the nurse said again. "We really need you to take these." She held the pill cup and water glass out again.

"What are they for?" John asked.

"Some Tylenol for pain, and a mild sedative. You need your rest," she insisted.

"Don't make me, dad, please," Sam requested. "I want to see Dean."

"How about you take the Tylenol and just lay here and try to sleep. I promise to wake you when the doctor comes in."

"Okay," Sam agreed.

"Trust me," John mouthed to the nurse when she looked like she was about to protest.

"He needs his rest," she insisted.

"He'll get it," John said firmly.

The nurse finally relented and just gave Sam the painkiller. Sam lay back on his pillow. "Close your eyes," John instructed. Sam obeyed. He reached out and ran his fingers through Sam's long curls and did something he hadn't done in a long time. "Once upon a time..." he said.

Sam cracked one eye.

"Go with it," John said, pleased when Sam did as requested once again. "There was a young prince name Samuel..." John told the story he had just read.

It wasn't long before Sam drifted off with a smile on his lips.

John lost track of how long he sat there, so he startled when he heard a voice behind him.

"John Winchester?" she asked.

"Yeah?"

"I'm Dr. Sylia Curtis. I have news on your other son."

"How's Dean?" John immediately asked. He glanced toward Sam and decided against waking him. He could fill him in later.

"He should be fine," Dr. Curtis confirmed.

"Thank God," John said visibly sagging with relief.

"Did Dr. Perry fill you in?" she inquired.

"He said that Dean's leg was broken. A compacted, commen something fracture."

"Compound, comminuted fracture," Dr. Curtis corrected. "We cleaned out the fragments and attached some plates to stabilize the bone. Right now, what's concerning is the compound fracture. It was quite serious. He was extremely lucky that the artery wasn't torn. We used an intermedullary rod, which is just a medical term for a steel rod, and inserted it directly into the center of the bone, which reconnects the two ends of the broken bone and is held in place with screws both above and below the fracture site. We can't cast the leg right now because the incisions have to heal, so we have Dean's leg in traction to keep it immobilized while it's healing. There's a surgical pin that goes through your son's leg, right above the fracture, that's attached to the traction frame. It can be a little scary when you see it for the first time, but just remember it's there to help Dean."

"How long?" John asked a little apprehensively. Dean was not going to take the news of forced inactivity very well.

"Two to three weeks in traction. 6-8 weeks in a cast after that, then he'll need physical therapy to build strength back up in the leg. With no complications, Dean should make a complete recovery in 4 to 5 months."

"Months," John said in disbelief. It was a broken leg.

"Yes," Dr. Curtis confirmed.

"Is he in pain?" John had to know.

"We can give him medicine, and as long as he follows instructions and doesn't touch the weights or pulleys on the traction frame, it should greatly reduce it, but he will be in some pain," Dr. Curtis said honestly.

John made a mental note to leave strong instructions with his eldest to leave everything he was attached to alone. Dean had a nasty habit of pulling IV lines. "I want to see him."

"He's being moved up the orthopaedic unit. He should be settled within the hour. When he is, I'll come and get you."

"Sam," John said. "He's going to insist on seeing Dean. Is that going to be a problem?"

"No," Sylia replied. "He just needs to know what to expect when he sees his brother. So I'll come and let you know, and I'll arrange for a wheelchair and you can go visit him together."

"Thanks," John said gratefully.

-----

"Dad," a sleepy voice muttered behind him.

John looked up. "Hey, sleepyhead," he teased gently. "Dean's okay," he confirmed before Sam could say anything. "He's got a broken leg. He's going to be laid up for a while, but I promise he'll be fine." He leaned over and pressed the call button. He knew what was coming next.

"I want to see him," Sam said speaking the expected words.

"You will. Just let me arrange for wheelchair."

"I'm fine," Sam protested.

"I know, kiddo, but it's hospital policy."

It wasn't long before Dr. Curtis showed up. She gave Sam and John a quick run down of what to expect when they got to Dean's room.

-----

John pushed Sam's wheelchair down the hall toward the elevator. Things would have been fine, except that on the way, they passed a man handcuffed to a gurney being wheeled down the hall toward them. There were two officers present. John could hear them talking about how they were glad the two boys who had been hit by this drunk were going to be okay.

He was staring at the man that almost took his sons from him.

Sam felt his wheelchair stop dead. He looked up to his father. He could see the storm clouds that had descended over John's face. "Dad," Sam said and reached for his father's hand a fraction of a second too late. The next thing Sam saw was his father heading straight for the man. He knew this wasn't going to end well.

TBC

A/N: I'm pretty sure that the website I got my medical information from was written for 4th year med students, so I hope you'll forgive any medical inaccuracies.

Please read and review, and let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

A/N: Dedicated to Sylia91. Thanks also to Soar, JuliaAurelia, and Sinead-Conlan.

Officer David Reese and his partner, Officer Pete Johnson, walked alongside the gurney that the orderly was wheeling toward the elevator. The man on the stretcher was being brought back from x-ray and if it was clear, he would be released into the custody of the officers.

"I'm glad those two boys are going to be okay," Officer Johnson said. "There's nothing I hate more than drunk drivers."

"Hey, Pete," Officer Reese addressed his partner. "We got a problem." He looked up just in time to see the father of the boys pushing his youngest son in a wheelchair. It was obvious that the man had heard what was said, and knew exactly who he was looking at, and from the look on his face, it was easy to tell what was going through his mind.

Pete Johnson looked up and saw a man barrelling toward them. His face was deep scarlet, there was a vein pulsing in his forehead, and his hands were curled into fists. The scariest thing though, was his eyes. There was no mistaking the murderous rage in them.

Pete and David reacted instantly. They both stepped in front of the man they were guarding, and it felt as if they had been rammed by a tank when John slammed into them, trying to get at the man behind them. The two officers were glad they were both there, because there was no way one of them would have been able to stop the distraught father.

"Calm down, John," Pete instructed sharply.

David cringed. He knew the effect those words had on the man.

_**"CALM DOWN? HE ALMOST KILLS MY SONS AND YOU'RE TELLING ME TO BE CALM? LET ME GO!"**_ John yelled, struggling to get out of their grip.

"Mr. Winchester, please," David said softly. "If it was up to me, I'd give you five minutes alone with him, but getting yourself arrested won't help, and you're scaring your son."

John's head whipped around and he saw Sam sitting in the wheelchair, looking like he was trying not to cry. The nurse who had been accompanying them looked pretty scared herself. That had a sobering effect on John like nothing else.

He walked back over to Sam and knelt before his son. "I'm so sorry, Sammy," he said genuinely.

"Can we just go see Dean, dad?" Sam pleaded tiredly.

"Sure, kiddo," he said reaching out and ruffling the too-long hair of his younger son. He stood and turned back to the officers. "You tell him he's lucky, and I don't mean the fact that he survived the wreck."

John went back behind Sam's chair and they continued on their way to the elevator.

-----

They got off on the orthopaedic floor and were led down the hall to room 333. Dr. Curtis met them there and took a moment to explain what they would see.

Despite knowing what to expect, it still didn't really prepare the father and son.

Dean was lying prone on the bed. John and Sam were relieved to see that Dean wasn't hooked up to a ventilator and was breathing on his own. There was a nasal cannula resting under his nostrils, and the IV in the back of his hand was connected to a bag of clear fluids, and a dark red bag of blood. There was a blood pressure cuff wrapped around his upper left arm and the colored wires snaking out from under his hospital gown were attached to a heart monitor. The resulting beeping sound was usually a source of irritation, but this time, both John and Sam found it reassuring.

That wasn't what was getting to John and Sam because, unfortunately, they were used to it. It was the traction frame. It looked like something right out of a medieval torture chamber. The top of Dean's left leg was wrapped in bandages, and underneath it was a sling that elevated his thigh off the bed, and extended down the length of his leg. His ankle was wrapped to help protect it from the metal on the supporting frame underneath it, and his foot was resting flat against a metal foot plate that kept it straight. The leg was held in place, not only by the sling, but a series of complicated weights and pulleys. It was hard to tell what went where, except for the weight that was attached to a surgical pin that went through the skin just above Dean's knee, and was attached to its own pulley and weight. A small bar, attached to a chain that looked like a trapeze swing, hung near Dean's chest. If he needed to sit up, he could use it to pull himself upright.

Dean was still asleep. Dr. Curtis said that he had been sedated for the evening. His skin was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes. John could see Dean's hated freckles standing out in stark contrast. He would never tell anyone, but he loved Dean's freckles. They somehow made Dean seem younger than his years, and John was reminded of the little boy Dean had once been. His eldest would probably think he was crazy for thinking such a thing.

"Does that hurt him?" Sam asked pointing to the traction frame.

John wanted to know that as well, but didn't want to ask for fear of what the doctor would say.

"It actually helps his pain," Dr. Curtis explained to the Winchesters' relief. "It's keeping the bones aligned and reduces pressure at the fracture sites. He will be in some pain, but he's getting medication in his IV."

"He'll be okay though, right?" Sam pleaded to the doctor. His dad had said he would, but Sam needed confirmation.

"He'll be fine. A lot of this equipment is just precautionary. If there are no complications, and we're not expecting any," she added quickly. "The only thing left will be the IV. He's getting antibiotics and painkillers. We'll continue the IV meds for the next few days, and then switch him to oral meds."

"Thank God," Sam said sighing with relief. "He can come home soon, right?" Sam asked in a hopeful tone.

Unconsciously, John's hand reached out and he lightly rested it on Sam's shoulder.

Dr. Curtis pulled up a chair and sat down next to Sam, so that she was eye level with him. "I know you have questions," she said gently. "And I'll answer every one of them."

John really didn't want to listen to the details of Dean's injuries again. He had hated hearing it the first time.

"Sammy," he said before the Q&A session could get started. "Will you be alright if I go for a cup of caffeine?"

"If I can stay with Dean," Sam said firmly.

"Half an hour," John replied. His energy reserves were starting to run low, and he wasn't the one who had been in the accident. He knew that Sam had to be tired and sore. "I'll be back then to take you to your room. No arguments," he added when his youngest son looked like he was about to protest. "Dean's just going to sleep all night, and you need your rest too. You know Dean would want that."

"Okay," Sam said reluctantly. "Dr. Curtis, is that pin in his knee hurting him?"

John took one last look at his sons and stepped out the door.

-----

After downing a cup of coffee and a slice of apple pie, John made his way back to his Dean's room. He did have a brief fight with Sam about going back to his room. It was short lived though, as Sam's adrenaline was fading. He walked back down with Sam and stayed with him until he fell asleep.

The next several hours were spent going back and forth between his sons' rooms. The nurses felt sorry for him and kept him supplied with coffee and updates on how the other son was doing.

Dawn was beginning to come up over the horizon when Dean started coming around.

The beeping sound of his monitor started to increase, and John immediately positioned himself so that he would be the first thing Dean saw to prevent him from panicking.

"It's okay, son," John said as he reached out and lightly stroked Dean's hair.

Dean blinked several times, trying to clear away the cobwebs. He finally opened his eyes and kept them open, trying to get his bearings. If he'd had to guess, he was in a hospital. He could hear the annoying beep of a monitor, feel the tickle of oxygen in his nose, and the pressure of the blood pressure cuff around his arm. Whatever had happened, they were giving him the heavy drugs, because he felt like he was floating.

It was a feeling he was used to, but it was one he had never liked. They made him feel out of control and that was the one thing he hated the most. He looked around for his dad's brown eyes. No matter what had happened, or how much pain he was in, or when the drugs had him drifting, his father's eyes never failed to act as his anchor, grounding him and keeping him steady amongst any chaos. He relaxed instantly. "Dad," ground out hoarsely.

"Yeah, buddy. You're okay. You had a bit of an accident," John explained as reached over and pressed the call button.

"Accident," Dean repeated, trying to wrap his foggy head around what was happening. Then he remembered, the grinding metal, the pain, Sammy sitting next to him.

_**SAMMY!**_

"SAMMY!" he said out loud and tried to sit up.

_**Big Mistake! **_A white hot pain shot though his upper thigh, causing an involuntary whimper to escape his lips. He tried to pull his leg toward him, but the pain only increased, along with his feelings of panic when his leg wouldn't move.

"Dean, easy," he heard his father say. "You have to lay still, son. Sammy's fine, Dean. I promise. Sammy is okay. He has a few cuts and a sprained wrist, but he's _**fine**_," John emphasized.

Dean visibly relaxed. He lay back on his pillow and took stock of his injuries, and the equipment he was hardwired to. His eyes widened at the traction frame.

"It's okay," John said again. "You did a number on your leg. It'll heal," John promised. "But it's going to take awhile. You have to keep it still," he cautioned.

He didn't care about himself, just as long as Sammy was okay. It was his job to keep his brother safe and he'd failed miserably. He didn't deserve his father's comfort, as much as he wanted it. His dad should be with Sammy. He wanted to roll over on his side, but the traction wouldn't let him. He settled for turning his head and looked toward the wall. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"What for?" John asked in a confused tone.

"You told me to be careful. Sammy could have been hurt," Dean said as if it should have been obvious.

John felt like he was about to be crushed by the guilt. "It is not your fault, Dean Mathew Winchester. Do you hear me? It was some drunk. It's _**not**_ your fault," he kept repeating. "I'm the one that owes you an apology. I'm so sorry I forgot about your award."

Despite his feelings of guilt, the young hunter couldn't help it. Involuntarily, his head snapped toward his father. He wasn't sure what to say, so he settled for a shrug and a hastily mumbled, "It was no big deal."

"It was," John insisted. "Because it was important to you. For what's its worth, I did read your story and I loved it. Thank you for making me the hero." _Even though I don't deserve it, he added to himself. _

Dean smiled sheepishly. His dad had liked what he had written. That did wonders for his mood. "I tried, like you said."

"I know, kiddo, and I'm proud of you."

With those words, Dean felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and he relaxed back onto his pillow briefly.

"The car," he said, once again trying to sit up, and growling at the stabbing pain that suddenly shot through his leg again.

"Dean, what did I tell you about lying still," John admonished lightly.

"Make sure I do, noted," Dean said, panting slightly at the pain. "What about the car, dad," he said a little worriedly.

"Nothing that can't be repaired," John promised. _I hope._ He actually hadn't seen the car yet. He'd been so worried about his boys that the car hadn't even registered on his mind. The only thing the former mechanic knew was that it was in an impound yard. He was really glad that the weapons trunk had been emptied, to clean them all for the upcoming hunt. The problem was that Dean would be upset if the car was a write off, he blamed himself even though he'd had nothing to do with it. He'd get Bobby to help. There was almost nothing Bobby couldn't fix.

"Good," Dean said and John had to fight back a smile.

"Hi Dean, I'm Dr. Curtis," a new voice said. "It's good to see you awake."

John and Dean looked up to see Dean's doctor entering the room. "Can I go home?" Dean asked.

"Sorry," Dr. Curtis said apologetically. "Not for a couple weeks."

"Weeks? But I want to go home," Dean said almost whining.

"Sorry, kiddo," John said. "You're stuck in the medieval torture device until your leg starts to heal."

"That sucks," Dean muttered.

"I agree," John replied. "Just try to relax, okay buddy."

"Go check on Sammy," Dean insisted. "Make sure he's okay."

Knowing it was the only way he'd get Dean to relax, he agreed. Dean closed his eyes and soon drifted off back to sleep.

-----

Shortly after Dean drifted off, John knew he had some planning to do. He would be glad when Sam was discharged, but it did make him realize that he would need to make arrangements for his youngest. There would be no hunting until Dean was discharged. He couldn't leave Sam at the house alone, and he couldn't risk Dean's recovery.

He needed a game plan, much like when he was on a hunt. He rose, exited the room and went to the nurses' station and asked about getting some paper and a pen. He checked on Dean and headed back to sit with Sam for a while.

He took a seat next to his son's bed. The very first thing he needed to do was make arrangements to rent a car until the Impala could be repaired, and it would be repaired. John knew that cars back then were made from steel and not fiberglass, like the cars of today. It had probably gone a long way to saving Dean's life, or at the very least, reducing the injuries the boys had received. _Probably could even take a hit from a semi, John thought ruefully. _He also knew he needed to make arrangements for Sam.

He could drop Sam off at his school, and drive by the high school and pick up Dean's work so he wouldn't fall behind. Then he'd swing by the hospital, visit with Dean, go to the university library and do some research on a couple of legends, whose victims were similar to the way Mary had died. Then he could go pick up Sam, drive him to the hospital to see Dean, because he knew that Sam wasn't going to go a day without wanting to see his big brother. He could collect Dean's assignments, take Sam home and get him dinner.

He would give anything for the accident not to have happened, but he was actually looking forward to spending more time with his sons. He hadn't been around much lately. He smiled. He definitely would be able to pull of this off. How hard could it be?

TBC

Please remember to read and review.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

A/N: Dedicated to Sylia91. Thanks goes to soar to the beta and additonal thanks, as always, to Sinead-Conlan and JuliaAurelia.

Disclaimer: Still don't own them.

"Why can't we just go wait in Dean's room?" Sam asked firmly.

Resisting the urge to both sigh and yawn, John addressed his youngest son and tried to keep a patient tone. This was the 6th time he'd answered this question since Sam woke up.

"Because Dean was just given a dose of his pain medication and he's sleeping. We're waiting for the doctor to come back with your test results. If they're clean, he's going to release you. Then I'll take you to see Dean and you can stay with him while I go run some errands."

Sam stared at his father in disbelief. "You're still going after that incubus? Dean's stuck in here and you're going hunting? How could you? You're his fat..."

"Samuel Francis Winchester," John ground out. "I know you're hurting and worried about your brother, so I'm going to let that go, _**once**_. I am _**not**_ going hunting. I just have a few things to do..."

"Like research for your..."

"Samuel, I'm not going to tell you again. I have to rent a car and make arrangements to have the Impala fixed. I need to see yours and Dean's principals, as you're going to be out for at least the rest of this week, and Dean's going to be out for at least two weeks, if not longer. Is that okay with you?" John growled.

Sam just crossed his arms and glared at his father as if he still didn't trust him.

"Believe what you want, Sammy," John said tiredly.

It had been a really long night. Between the worry over his sons, and spending the night going back and forth between their rooms, exhaustion was starting to catch up with John. He was going on over 24 hours without sleep, and it didn't look like he was going to get any rest anytime soon. Getting into a fight with his youngest, something that seemed to be happening more and more these days, was not something John had the energy for, and he was really glad when he looked up and saw Sam's doctor entering the room.

-----

Dr. Perry made his way down the hall toward his young patient's room. Sam's X-Rays and tests had come back fine, so he was planning on discharging the young man.

"Excuse me," Dr. Perry said stepping into the room.

"Morning doc," John greeted, stifling a yawn.

"Good morning. I have some good news. Sam's tests all came back clear, so I'm going to officially discharge him. Sam, you're going to be sore for a few days, so just take it easy. Try not to use your left hand, I don't want you aggravating the injury to your wrist. If you have any pain, I left a prescription for a mild painkiller. I'll want to see you back here in about a week for a check up. I don't anticipate any problems, but if there is, or you have questions, don't hesitate to call me."

"Thanks," John said.

"Can we go see Dean now?" was all Sam said.

-----

The remainder of the day was an extremely busy one for John. He arranged for his neighbor to drive him to a car rental place. His next stop was the police impound yard and John, once again, thanked his lucky stars that the trunk had been emptied. He made arrangements to have the Impala dropped off back at his place. He had decided to make the repairs himself to try and help save money. As it was, the repairs still weren't going to be cheap.

That was another thing that was weighing heavily on his mind, money. Even the cheapest rental car was expensive.

Dean had had his real license in his wallet, so he had been admitted under his own name, and John had no insurance. Dean's care was going to run into the thousands, and even Sam's overnight hospital stay wouldn't be cheap. He sighed as he realized that visiting the hospital accounting office was something else he was going to have to do.

The visits to the boys' schools went as John had expected. They all expressed their concerns and hoped that Sam and Dean were okay. John confirmed that they would be. Sam's teachers all mentioned that John could pick up his assignments until he was ready to come back, and said that they didn't think Sam would have a problem catching up.

John's guilt moved up another notch when he said that the accident was the reason Dean wasn't at the awards ceremony last night. His teachers were glad that he was going to be okay, but they did express concerns that Dean had been behind already, and that they were worried about him falling further behind. John promised to make sure that Dean kept up with his school work.

With his tasks completed, John drove to the bank. Dean's school had given him Dean's plaque, and much to John's relief, his check. He felt bad that he had to use it, but he didn't see any other option. He'd just have to find a creative way to make it up to his son.

His first stop in the hospital was the accounting office where he made an appointment, and then he headed up to Dean's room and his boys. He decided that any other problems could wait.

-----

Dean had been awake off and on throughout the day, and it was only with his help that John managed to get Sam to go home with him that night.

They pulled into the driveway and father and son exited the car and headed into the house. It was freezing outside, and the first thing John noticed was how cold it was inside. He walked over to the thermostat and cranked it up as high as it would go. He made sure Sam was settled and went to his room. He didn't even bother to get changed. He just lay down, and as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light.

-----

It was after 9 before he woke up the next day. John couldn't remember the last time he'd slept that late. He rose from bed, shivered, and wished he could turn the heat up higher. He could hear the wind howling outside and he vowed that as soon as Dean was better, he was going to find a demon or two in South Beach.

He headed toward the kitchen seeking coffee. He grabbed a mug and headed toward the coffee maker, only to realize that there was only a small amount of day old, dark brown sludge, instead of the strong, hot brewed caffeine he was used to finding every morning. John couldn't remember the last time he'd made a pot. Since Dean had started drinking it, there had always been fresh, hot coffee when he awoke. It was an old coffee maker and wasn't able to be programmed.

_How could I have missed that, John thought._ _One more reason why you win worst father of the year. _How early had Dean been getting up to make sure the coffee was on?

He grabbed the decanter, emptied out the foul smelling liquid and rinsed it under the tap a few times. He filled it up, added the last of the coffee and plugged it in. While it was percolating, John called the hospital and spoke to Dean's doctor, who assured him that Dean had had a quiet night and if they would like, they could transfer him to Dean's room.

"Hello," came the voice over the line.

"Hey, buddy. How are you this morning?" John asked.

"Peachy," came Dean's expected reply.

"Dean," John said with a hint of warning. He could almost hear the thoughts in Dean's head as he debated what to tell his father.

"My leg was really sore earlier, but Nurse Ratched gave me a squirt of happy juice and now it's down to a dull roar. Then she tried to make me eat something she swore was eggs and bacon, but was more like rubber and cardboard. Can you and Sammy bring me some real food?" Dean begged.

John resisted the urge to laugh. Dean complaints were music to his ears. "I'll try," he said.

"Just don't let Nurse Ratched catch you. She'd tell me that I don't need it, but then she'd try to eat it herself." Dean warned. "I'm telling you dad, I think she's possessed."

"I'm sure she's not that bad," John said in an indulgent tone.

"She's worse," Dean confirmed. "She wanted to give me a sponge bath this morning, dad, then when I needed to go, she made me use a bed pan. She said if I refused, they were going to use a catheter. Can they do that? Is that legal?"

John couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. "It's not funny." John could hear Dean's pout.

"Can you bring my walkman or something? This place is as boring as heck."

"Sure kiddo. Anything else you want?" John asked. Dean had been in traction for about 24 hours, if he was bored already, he was going to need plenty of distractions.

"Um, can you get some magazines or something?" Dean requested. "You can use the 30 dollars in my desk drawer. Oh, and there's a book in the top drawer of my desk. Can you bring that as well?"

"Not a problem. I'll bring your school bag as well."

"Swell," Dean said sarcastically. "How's Sammy?" he asked changing the subject.

"He's doing good. Probably be a little sore, though. We should be by later this morning," John replied.

"He has a dentist appointment at 11:30," Dean said. "If he's feeling up to it, you should probably take him."

John paused. Sam had a dentist appointment? Since when? Just what he needed, another bill. He would have to cancel.

"Don't worry dad, it's a free clinic," Dean's voice came through the phone line as if he were reading his father's thoughts. "It can take 6 to 8 weeks to get an appointment, though, so it's best not to cancel, if possible. Don't let him talk you out of it," Dean warned.

"Did you have a check up this morning as well?" John asked.

"Maybe," Dean said non-committally.

"I'll see how Sammy's feeling this morning, and if it's possible, I'll take him and reschedule your appointment."

"No rush. Hang on, dad," Dean said.

John could hear muffled voices coming through the phone and it sounded like Dean was arguing with someone.

"Hello, Mr. Winchester," a female voice suddenly came over the line. "Dean's fine, but it's time for his pain meds and he's refusing."

"Let me talk to him," John said. He was going to have to have a talk to Dean about cooperation. "Dean," John said after a minute.

"Yeah," came the soft voice of his son. The one Dean used when he knew he was about to get chastised.

"It's an order," was all he said in his drill sergeant's voice.

"Yes, sir," Dean mumbled. "I'll see you this afternoon, dad," Dean replied.

"Let me talk to your nurse for a sec, okay?" He wanted to warn the nurse that Dean had been known to stuff pills in his cheek and spit them out later.

"They put the meds in my IV," he said with a sigh, knowing what his father was thinking. "Can you tell them take it out, it's making my hand itch. Atilla keeps threatening to restrain me, if I don't leave it alone."

"I'll see you later," John said as he hung up the phone.

-----

No sooner had John hung up, than he heard the sound of his youngest son walking down the hall.

"Morning, dad," Sam said as he entered the kitchen.

"Hey, Sammy, how are you feeling this morning?" John inquired.

"I'm okay," Sam answered as he stiffly took a seat at the table. "Just feel like I'm ninety," he amended after his father shot him a look.

"Do you need one of the painkillers that the doctor prescribed?"

"No. It's not too bad. How's Dean?"

"He's fine, just bored. After breakfast, I'm going to head to the store to pick up a few things for him. Do you want to come with me, or do you want me to drop you off at the hospital first?"

Sam had to think for a minute. He wanted to go see his brother, but he also wanted to go with his father, to make sure that he got things that would interest Dean, but the thought of walking around a mall was a little too much for him at this point. "I'll go stay with Dean," he finally decided.

"What about your dentist appointment? Do you feel up to that?"

"No!" Sam blurted out quickly. He had forgotten all about it. Leave it to his brother to remember.

"Okay, kiddo, I won't make you go," John confirmed. "Where's the number? I need to reschedule?"

"It's in the drawer by the sink. What's for breakfast?" Sam asked. He was feeling hungry for the first time in the last couple of days.

"I was thinking we'd go to McDonalds. We can either eat in, or do a drive through, whatever you want."

"Let's do the drive through. We should get something to bring to Dean. You know how much he hates hospital food."

John smiled sadly at another way he'd failed his boys over the years. Yes, he knew how much Dean hated hospital food because both his sons had been in the hospital way too many times in their short lives. "I want you to go take a shower, as hot as you can stand. It should help with the aches and pains. Then we'll head out," he said changing the subject and trying to push the thoughts out of his head.

For once, Sam obeyed without question. Needing to keep himself from thinking, John rose and went to the drawer to get the phone number for the dental clinic. He'd had to do some rooting for it, and almost thought Sam had told him the wrong drawer.

He was looking for a scrap of paper with a phone number on it, not the complete list he'd come across. In addition to the number for the dentist, there were numbers for a free medical clinic, Sam and Dean's teachers, the numbers for their schools, and Sam's friends.

Knowing the list would come in handy, John removed it from the drawer and laid it on the counter for quick access. He grabbed a pen and quickly scribbled down the number of the hospital and Dean's doctor.

He collected the remaining 20 dollars from Dean's drawer, and looked for the book Dean had asked him to bring. He did a little rooting around in the drawer and the only book he could find was a battered, dog-eared copy of Ken Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. It looked ready to fall apart and it did just that when he lifted out of the drawer. The cover came off as did a few of the pages. He'd have to try to find another copy at the store. He'd always assumed that Dean's reference to nurse Ratched came from the movie. He never dreamed they came from the book.

With a shake of his head, John put the book in his son's school bag and headed out the door.

-----

"Hey, Dean," John said stepping in his son's room later that afternoon.

"Hey, dad, Thanks for the egg McMuffin," Dean said greeting his father. He'd been extremely grateful when Sam had showed up with the McDonald's bag.

"He almost took my hand off grabbing the bag," Sam teased. "I think he swallowed it whole."

"You're welcome," John said with a genuine laugh.

Dean turned his head toward his father. "Are those for me?" he asked pointing at the bags at his father's feet.

"Yup," John said with a true smile that reached his eyes. He handed one bag to Dean, and one to Sam. His boys reminded him of a kid at Christmas. Had it been that long since he'd just gone out and bought them something for the heck of it? He honestly couldn't remember the last time he had bought them something they wanted. Presents at birthdays, when John remembered, and Christmas were strictly things they needed. Money was usually too tight for anything else.

Not that the financial situation was any better now, but John had taken 100 dollars of Dean's money and spent it entirely on his boys.

The music store had been his first stop. He got a Dean the new Metallica album, and Sam the newest mixed tape of music hits. He got Dean a whole slew of batteries for his walkman. The thing sucked them dry faster than a vampire could drain the blood off a victim. Then he'd gone to a magazine store and picked up some car and music magazines for Dean. At the checkout, he'd seen of a book of puzzles. He'd figured that they'd keep Dean busy for a while, so he added it to his pile.

On the way to the hospital, he'd passed by a bookstore, and he had gotten an urge to pull in. The store was large and had a big section of classics. For reasons John couldn't understand, he'd made his selections there. He perused the titles and selected some he thought might appeal to Dean. It took about 45 minutes but he'd finally selected 1984, The Count of Monte Cristo, and his favorite book when he had been Dean's age, Brave New World. He also got Dean a brand new copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, in hardcover. He couldn't afford it, but Dean deserved it. Sam was much easier, the kid would read anything, so John picked out Lord of the Flies, and To Kill a Mocking Bird.

"You didn't have to get me anything," Sam replied when John handed him a bag as well.

"I wanted to," John said. "Hope you like them."

"Cool, dad. I wanted to read this, like forever," Sam replied holding up Lord of the Flies.

"What's this?" Dean asked as he held up the hard cover copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.

"Your other one kind of fell apart," John explained. "The cover and a few pages fell off when I took it out of the drawer."

"It was ready to fall apart," Dean replied. "Don't worry about it."

"I didn't know you'd read the book," John said.

Dean shrugged. "We had to read it for English a couple years ago. It was okay."

"Just okay?" John asked.

"A little better than okay," Dean admitted.

John grinned. That was about all he was going to get out his eldest. "I have to admit when you called your nurse Ratched, I thought you were talking about the movie."

"There's a movie?" Dean asked in surprise. "Now you tell me. You couldn't let me know that 3 years ago? It would have saved so much time."

"Just how many times have you watched the movie instead of reading your assignments?" John said with mock severity.

Dean knew he had just busted himself. "Um, not often," he mumbled.

"Just think, Dean," Sam said. "If you had known, you would never have read the book, and how many times have you read it now?"

"A couple," Dean replied. "Can you rent the movie for me when I get out of here? I'd like to see it."

"Sure, kiddo," John said and reached over and ruffled Dean's hair.

"Hey," Dean protested, and the levity was interrupted when he jarred his leg in an attempt to stop his father, and he hissed in pain. The pain had actually been building steadily since his father had walked into the room. Moving the limb had caused it to boil over and Dean's mask had slipped, much to his dismay.

"You okay, Dean?" Sam asked a little worriedly. For his brother to show pain, he had to be really hurting.

"I'm fine," Dean ground out through clenched teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the pain to go away.

"Do you want me to get the nurse?" John said.

"No," Dean snapped. He hated the pain medication and the way it made him feel.

Sam stood up and pressed the button next to Dean's bed.

"What the hell did you do that for?" he accused.

"You wouldn't let me be in pain," Sam stated firmly.

"Nurse Ratched is just going to sedate my as..."

"Dean," John interrupted his son. "Sam, I need to talk to your brother for a few minutes. Can you go get me some coffee, or a piece of pie?"

"I want to stay," Sam protested as John had known he would.

"It's an order," John said firmly. "Just give us about 10 minutes." He pulled a 10 out of his wallet. "I spent a little more on Dean, so go to the gift shop and buy yourself something." He was bribing his youngest and he knew it. He was grateful when Sam took the money and said he would be back soon.

"Dean," John said seriously.

"Dad," Dean replied. "I don't need pain medication. It's not that bad."

"Your doctor prescribed it for a reason," John said softening his voice. "You don't have to be in pain, son."

"But that stuff knocks me out, and make me feel so... so..." Dean paused.

"Out of control?" John filled in.

"Yeah," Dean admitted not looking at his father.

"You're off duty. I'll look after Sam. Your only order is to get better."

"But..." Dean said, a touch of confusion in his tone. Did his dad not need him to look after Sammy? That was his job.

John wanted to curse himself when he looked at his son's face. Dean looked hurt, and John realized that Dean had thought he had meant that he didn't need him to look after Sam anymore, permanently.

"Just temporary, soldier," he explained. "While you're on the disabled list. You always look after Sammy and me. It's your turn to let us look after you for a while. That means following all of the doctor's orders, and taking your meds," John insisted. "All of them, and asking for help if you're hurting."

Dean wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so he gave the expected one. "Yes sir."

"Oh, and Dean, please tell me you haven't been calling your nurse Ratched in front of her. Dean!" He admonished when his son wouldn't meet his eyes.

"She deserved it, dad," Dean defended himself.

"You buzzed," a female voice said as a nurse stepped into the room. "Hi, you must be Dean's father. I'm his nurse, Ella Hatcher."

"John Winchester," he introduced himself. "I think Dean needs to ask you something," John said to his eldest.

Dean didn't speak, he just turned toward the wall. John sighed tiredly. He guessed that he couldn't expect his son to change overnight. "Dean," he prompted and glared at his eldest.

"He's due for his next dose of pain meds. Could this be what you're looking for?" the nurse said holding up a filled syringe and taking a step toward the bed.

John held a hand up to stop her. He knew that Dean needed it, but he wanted him to ask. "Dean, look at me," he said in a tone that left no room for argument. Dean turned his head back toward his father. "It's not a sign of weakness, son." _God Dean, what have I done to you? _John reached over and put his hand top of Dean's. "Sometimes it's okay to ask for help." _Please Dean, take this, he silently pleaded._

"My leg hurts," Dean admitted so softly it was almost missed.

"I can take care of that." The nurse stepped forward and injected the meds into Dean's IV. "You should be feeling better in no time."

"Thanks," Dean said, closing his eyes.

"Something else you want to say?" John instructed.

"Um, sorry about the Nurse Ratched thing," he mumbled.

"It's okay," she replied. "I've been called worse. I kind of like Nurse Ratched. It's one of my favourite books. Plus, you know who's in charge," she said and winked at John, causing him to grin. "You get some rest, Randall."

Dean opened his eyes and looked at the nurse.

"It's fair, don't you think," she replied to her young patient.

"Only if you don't try to give me a lobotomy."

"No promises," she said.

"Hey," Dean protested. "Don't forget what happened to her at the end of the book."

"Like to see you try that one, gimpy," the nurse snarked back.

"Dad, are you going to just sit there and let her get away with that?" Dean addressed his father.

"Yeah," he said. He had a feeling she was just what Dean needed.

A mock pout crossed Dean's face. "But I'm your baby boy," he said to his father.

"Did I miss something?" Sam asked coming back in the room.

"Hey. Sammy, you're on my side. Right?" Dean asked.

"Depends," he replied.

"I swear the whole world's against me. See if I help you with Sara."

"Dean!" Sam protested as he blushed fiercely when Dean mentioned the name of the girl that he had a crush on.

"Oops," Dean said in an innocent tone. "Did I say that out loud?"

"At least I didn't rent Caleb's car to the school quarterback when they were on that hunt. Oops, did I say _**that**_ out loud?" Sam fired back.

John glared at his eldest. Dean did his best to ignore the death stare. "How do you think I got the money for your trip to the museum when you were supposed to be at your bow hunting lesson?"

"Boys!" John ground out, trying to sound mad. He should be furious, but he was trying to stop himself from laughing out loud. "Maybe I should let you guys keep going. See what else I might need to know about."

That shut both boys up fast. Nurse Hatcher couldn't hold back and she chuckled out loud. It was going to be an interesting three weeks.

John finally gave in as well. He could deal with the serious stuff later. The only thing he was interested in right now was being with his boys.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry for the long wait. I don't really have an excuse expect real life.

This chapter is dedicated to Sylia91, thanks for your patience.

I would also like to thank Soar for the beta and Sinead-Conlan and JuliaAurelia for their feedback.

Disclaimer: Still don't own them.

Chapter 5.

It was a couple of hours later when John finally managed to convince Sam that it would be okay for them to leave. Dean had succumbed to the effects of his medication about an hour earlier, and was now sleeping peacefully. Taking advantage of the situation, because he knew he'd never get away with it if Dean was awake, John planted a kiss on the forehead of his eldest son and led Sam to the car.

"Hey, Sammy," John said to his youngest as he put the keys in the ignition.

"Yeah," Sam mumbled tiredly.

"Did you have a toothache or something?" John inquired.

"No," Sam said, a touch of confusion in his tone. "Why?"

"Just wondering. Do you go to the dentist often?" Sam's dentist appointment had been on his mind all day, because he honestly couldn't remember the last time he had done something so mundane as make an appointment for his kids to have their teeth checked.

"Friggin' Dean makes me," he grumbled. "First thing he does when we get into town is find the free clinics. Have to go about every 6 months. He told me the order came from you. Did it?" Sam asked hoping he could get out of more visits. There was nothing he hated more than a trip to the dentist.

"Yes," John covered. "I was, um, just making sure he followed it. Uh, Sammy, does Dean go himself?"

"When he can get an appointment. It's not always easy, though. If there's no free clinic, he usually just gets me an appointment somewhere. He never goes then."

_How did he pay for that? _"Does that happen often?" John inquired.

"No, Dean's a genius at finding those stupid clinics. Don't know how he does it," Sam admitted.

Maybe it was time for him to find out, John wondered.

-----

_**BBBBBBBZZZZZZZZZ**_

A loud groan accompanied the buzzing alarm clock. A short time later, a hand snaked out from under a mound of blankets, smacked the snooze button, and then quickly made its way back under the covers.

It seemed like he had just gotten back to sleep when the annoying sound resonated again throughout the small room.

John Winchester sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He had spent the past three days hanging around the hospital, and he wondered how that could have tired him out so much. He knew it was more mental tiredness than physical, though.

He'd been right about Dean not changing overnight. He'd spent the last three days trying to reason with his stubborn son. He'd tried to go the tough love route and make Dean admit that he needed his pain meds, but when it got bad, he didn't have the heart to make Dean work through his stubbornness. He'd had to make the first revision to his plan, so instead of going to the library, he'd spend the majority of the time Sam was in school at the hospital. He'd just make a quick stop at the library and "borrow" some books. He didn't trust Dean, and the thought of his son laying there all day, alone and in pain, was going against every fatherly instinct he had.

Money was also still a big concern. The meeting at the hospital accounting office had not gone well. The payment schedule they were insisting on was more than he could afford. He'd had to fork over most of the thousand dollars from Dean's check to keep them happy. Rent was also coming due, so he decided that after he dropped Sam off with Dean that evening, he'd have to go hustle some pool.

_**BBBBBZZZZZZZZZ **_

The alarm clock sounded again, drawing John out of his thoughts. He reached over and switched it off and reluctantly pulled the covers off, shivering when his bare feet touched the cold tiles on the floor. He looked around for the socks he had discarded the night before. He finally located them, pulled them on, and then headed toward the kitchen.

He paused to look in at his youngest son. Sam was sleeping peacefully, for which John was grateful. He'd only asked for his pills a couple of times. John was thankful that at least one of his boys had the sense to admit he needed help.

He was still thinking about ways to get through to Dean when he entered the kitchen. Anything he was contemplating flew right out of his head though, when he entered the doorway and he promptly put his foot down into a big puddle of water.

"Crap," he growled. Looking down, he saw that there was a small flood in the kitchen. He could vaguely recall Dean asking if he would have a look at the pipe under the sink. He kept promising he would, but had never gotten around to it. He had completely forgotten about it actually. Not bothering to hold back several curse words, John opened the cupboards under the sink and found the source of the leak. He turned the valves off, effectively stopping the water, for now. With a deep sigh, he grabbed the mop and did his best to get rid of the lake that used to be the kitchen floor.

It took longer than he thought it would, and as he put the mop back in the broom closet, he glanced at the clock. He had to get Sam up soon or he was going to be late for school. He then decided that he didn't care if Sam was late. The kid had just been in a car accident, he doubted anyone would care.

Breakfast was the first task of the day. He looked through the cupboards and reminded himself, once again, that he needed to grocery shop. They had been eating out the last couple of days, but John had to put a stop to it because it was getting expensive. He found some instant oatmeal, and a bag with 2 pieces of bread. They were slightly stale but edible. John plugged in the kettle for the oatmeal, put the bread in the toaster, and went down the hall to get dressed.

-------

_**BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP**_

Sam bolted out of bed at the sound of the fire alarm, his heart pounding. He ran down the hall and when he saw all the smoke coming out of the kitchen, he relaxed slightly. He had a feeling he knew what it was. Sure enough, the source of the smoke was the toaster. Sam went to the counter and unplugged it, grabbed a dish towel and started fanning it under the blaring alarm.

"Sammy," John yelled in a panicked tone. Fire filled his worst nightmares.

"It's okay, dad. Nothing is actually burning, except the toast. You have to stay and watch it because the button sticks. I opened the window," Sam called from the hallway where he was waving a dish towel under the smoke detector, trying to get it to stop.

"I got it," John said, taking a broom and smacking at it, until it came off the ceiling and landed on the floor with a thump.

"Now we don't have a fire alarm," Sam pointed out.

"But we have silence," John said. He had a headache already and it didn't seem to be going away anytime soon. "I'll fix it later. Go get dressed and I'll get your breakfast."

"Yes sir," Sam replied and headed back to his room.

He joined his father in the kitchen shortly afterward. He coughed a bit from the left over smoke, and stared at the bowl of oatmeal that was sitting in front of him. He looked at it in disgust. "Dean always makes pancakes," he announced. He was not a picky eater. With the food budget he couldn't afford to be, you ate what was in front of you or you went hungry, but there was one food Sam hated with a passion, and that was oatmeal. Even adding maple syrup and sugar to it didn't change that fact. It was still oatmeal.

"Eat it, Sammy," John said firmly.

"But I _**hate**_ oatmeal. Dean knows how much I hate it, and _**he**_ makes me pancakes," Sam said in an accusatory tone.

"Then throw it in the garbage. Let it go to waste," John snapped, trying to reign in his temper. He wasn't in the mood to get into a fight with his youngest this morning. "We're running late. It's either that or you go hungry."

Sam glared that the lumpy mess in front of him. "Can we stop at Burger King?"

"No," John said trying not to snap at his youngest. "Breakfast is on the table. You don't like it, that's too bad."

Sam transferred his glare from the oatmeal to his father. "But I'm hungry," he said, trying to play on his father's sympathy.

"Then eat your breakfast," John pointed out.

"No," Sam said stubbornly. "I hate oatmeal."

Knowing he was going to get nowhere, John decided it wasn't worth fighting over. The only problem was that he had almost no money, so he literally couldn't afford to eat out. "I'll spring for a bagel at the coffee shop," John compromised.

Not wanting to press his luck, Sam said that was fine and went to grab his back pack, while his father got the keys. He followed his father out the door, bumping into him when John stopped abruptly.

"Watch where you're going," John growled.

"Sooorrry," Sam said sarcastically. "You're the one that stopped dead in the first place."

"Knock it off," John said in a warning tone.

Peeking around his father, Sam could see what had his father so upset. It had snowed the night before and the ploughs had been around, and there was now a big snow drift at the end of driveway, effectively blocking the car.

"Sam, go get your bro..." John stopped abruptly. "The shovel," he finished.

"Sure dad, do you need help?"

"No. I don't want you straining your wrist. Go inside. It's cold out here. I'll call you when I'm done."

Re-affirming his vow about going to South Beach, John bent over and got to work.

-----

The drive to the junior high school was silent, John was lost in thought, and Sam was reading one of his books. He had been planning to go to the grocery store after stopping by the hospital, and then he realized that he had no idea what his sons liked and didn't. They usually ate what was put in front of them, but were there foods they couldn't eat, foods they were allergic to? John felt like such a failure again when he realized that he didn't know.

"Hey, Sammy," John said, trying to keep his tone light and make it look like he was not fishing for answers. "I'm headed to the grocery store this afternoon, is there anything else that offends your delicate palate?"

"No," Sam replied.

"What about your brother?"

"Dean's not fussy. He'd eat the dishrag if you dipped it in sauce. The oatmeal's his. He eats it when…" Sam stopped abruptly. He really didn't want to finish that thought.

"When?" came John's expected reply.

"Um..." Sam hesitated.

"Sammy?" John probed. "What were you about to say?"

"It's cheap and it lasts a long time. Sometimes when you... you know...if you're..." He stopped again.

"When I'm late getting back from a hunt and the money runs out," John guessed. Sam's silence confirmed John's thoughts. "What do you eat then?"

"Pancakes. Dean always makes sure there're pancakes for me. They're my favourite. Can you..."

"Get some pancakes," John finished. "Sure, kiddo." He reached over and ruffled Sam's too long curls. He was really going to have to cut Sam's hair soon. "I'll pick you up at three, right here," John instructed. "Then we'll head to the hospital."

"'Kay. What about lunch?" Sam asked.

"What about it?" John asked.

"Dean usually makes my lunch," Sam stated as if it should have been obvious.

"Why are you just mentioning this now?" John said in disbelief.

Sam shrugged, further fuelling John's temper. He reached into his wallet and handed Sam a couple of dollars. "What?" he asked when he saw the look Sam gave him.

"Hot lunches are five dollars. Six if you want dessert."

Grumbling to himself, John forked over another 3 dollars to go with the two he had handed Sam earlier.

"De..." Sam started.

"Don't!" John said in a quiet, deadly tone.

Sam recognized the unspoken warning and got out of the car without another word.

-----

_**"No!"**_ John said firmly to the principal of Dean's school.

"Mr. Winchester," she argued. "There's no choice. I've reviewed Dean's grades and they aren't that good. Now, with the time he's going to be missing, I'm sure he's going to fall even further behind. Dean's going to need the extra tutoring. It's mandatory when a student's grades fall below a certain level, and Dean's right on the edge."

They had been having this argument for the last half-hour. John had simply stopped in to pick up Dean's schoolwork, and had been told that the principal wanted to see him. He suddenly felt like he was back in school. "Dean's more than capable. He's just..." John said trying to convince the lady that Dean didn't need it. He was having enough problems with his school work. _Whose fault is that? Shut up, he told himself. _For Dean to find out that was going to be expected to take extra tutoring would destroy any confidence he had.

"Lazy," the principal supplied. "Yes, he's very intelligent, but he doesn't try. He doesn't..."

"Hey," John growled.

"I know it's hard to hear these things, Mr. Winchester, but look at his essay, and he's part of our student mentoring program. He tutors kids in math. That shows the kind of work he'd be capable of if he just put some effort behind what he does."

"Look..." John said forcibly. Then he trailed off. Something else he had learned about his son. _Guess that explained where he got the money to keep Sam in pancakes, no thanks to you_. He couldn't explain that the reason Dean's grades were in the toilet was because he had the responsibility of watching his little brother while his father was off hunting demons. It made him sound like a negligent nutcase. "How about we compromise? Let's make this decision after Dean gets out of the hospital and we see where he's at."

Speaking of older sons, he really needed to go see his. He'd promised that he'd be there this morning and he was already late. He didn't want Dean thinking he wasn't going to show up.

"Alright. I don't mean to sound heartless, Mr. Winchester. I truly hope Dean feels better soon."

"Great," John said, grabbing Dean's assignments and making a break for the door, taking that as the principal's okay. He wanted to get out before she changed her mind.

------

"Mr. Winchester," he heard his name called.

John seriously debated ignoring whoever was speaking to him and just getting in the elevator, but it could be about Dean, so he groaned and turned around. "What now?" he said tiredly.

"I'm glad I caught you. I'm Ron Bellard, I'm a physical therapist at the hospital and I'll be working with Dean."

"I thought that didn't start until after he got his cast off," John said in confusion.

"He's stuck in bed right now, but we don't want his other muscles weakening, so I was showing him some exercises that he can do. I also need you to stop by the clinic sometime in the next couple of weeks to make an appointment. Before Dean's leg is casted, we're going to have to take a mould of his leg so we can get the brace he's going to need made. It can take a few weeks, so it's best to put the request in early, so that he has it when the cast comes off."

"Brace?" John said in disbelief. _How much was that going to cost?_

"Didn't the doctor cover that?" Ron asked.

"Um, yes," John stammered. He could remember it being mentioned briefly. "I'll be by later today or tomorrow."

"That's fine. Dean's doctor knows how to get in touch with me if you have questions."

"Thanks," John said trying to sound sincere.

John's financial worries just doubled as he walked to Dean's room.

All his plans for the next week completely went out the window. He had no choice. He was going to have to get a job.

-----

He was in a bad mood by the time he reached Dean's room. Hearing the loud voices coming out of his son's room was doing nothing to help it. Before he went in, he took a deep breath and counted to 10. He didn't want to snap at Dean, his son would think he was mad at him.

He walked into the room to find Dean's nurse and his doctor standing over him, lecturing him about the IV that was dripping on the floor.

"Dean," Dr. Curtis said with a touch of impatience. "I'm really good a putting in IVs. It's just a quick needle stick."

"I don't need it," the young hunter insisted.

"You do," Dr. Curtis tried to reason with him.

"What's going on?" John asked as he stepped into the room. "Dean, please tell me you didn't pull that," he pointed at the IV stand.

"It was an accident," Dean pleaded his case. "I was… um… just reaching for my book and it came out."

"And I suppose it was just a coincidence that I had just given you pain meds before you accidentally dislodged your IV," Nurse Ella said.

Dean looked sheepish and stared at his hands. He could feel his father's glare on him. "I don't need them," he tried.

"God damn it, Dean," John growled. "How many times do we have to do this?"

Dean just turned his head toward the wall.

Sighing deeply, John rested a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Go ahead and put it back in. Don't, Dean," John said cutting off Dean's expected protest before he could say a word.

John held Dean's right hand firmly while Dr. Curtis started a new IV, then gave him a quick exam, and determined that he hadn't done any damage to himself.

"Leave this one," Dr. Curtis said to her patient. "I mean it, Dean. Not only are you getting pain meds, but you're getting antibiotics too, and trust me, you do not want that leg getting infected. Now if you pull this one, I will have to restrain you. Are we clear?"

"Dean, answer the doctor," John said when it became clear Dean wasn't going to speak.

"Yes, ma'am," Dean huffed.

"I'll talk to him," John promised his doctor.

When the doctor and nurse left, John sat beside his son and looked him in the eye.

"You wouldn't let them restrain me, would you?" Dean asked fearfully.

"I don't want to, but if it stops you from hurting yourself, I would," John said honestly, and he couldn't look his son in the eye when Dean looked at him like he had been betrayed. "But you're not going to give them a reason to do that, are you?" John added pointedly.

"No," Dean muttered.

"Now son, tell me what's going on. Why are you so resistant to pain meds?"

"I don't need them," he insisted.

"Dean," John said trying to keep the frustration out of his tone. "The bone in your left leg has mostly been replaced by a metal rod, and is held in place by more plates and screws than you'd find on a construction site. You're stuck in traction, with a pin going through part of your leg. It hurts me just describing it. Now, tell me what the hell is going on with you."

"Nothing. I told you..."

"Fine," John ground out. "You don't need them, you don't have to take them. I'll tell Nurse Hatcher to hold them until you ask." John got up and walked out of the room, feeling like a complete bastard. He had to do this though, it was the only way Dean was going to learn.

------

John remained at his son's bedside all morning, fighting off the temptation to go rob the pharmacy. He could tell that Dean was in pain. He face bore a pinched look, was pale and taking a lot of deep breaths, as if he was trying to breathe through it.

_Come on, kid, John thought. _

"Think you can do some school work? I don't want you falling behind."

Dean just looked at his father like he was crazy.

"I'll let it go for now, but you really need to try and keep up." _Don't do this, Dean, please. I can't take it. _

"Dad, can you turn on the TV?" Dean asked through clenched teeth.

"Sure kiddo," John said going to the TV. He picked up the call button and put it in Dean's hand. "You can end this," John said. He wasn't surprised when Dean dropped it.

"Dean," John said gently. It was time to try a new tactic. He was starting to crack. "What if it was Sammy lying in this bed? You'd make him take the meds."

"That's different," Dean replied.

"How?" John asked in confusion.

"Sammy didn't ca..." Dean stopped abruptly.

"Are you punishing yourself?" John asked in disbelief. "You think you deserve this?"

"Sammy could have been hurt," Dean mumbled, not looking at his father. He gave a small whimper when he felt a white hot pain flare up his leg.

John reached over and pressed the call button. Enough was enough. If Dean felt he deserved this, he'd never give in. "Dean Mathew Winchester, it was an accident. You didn't do anything wrong. Were you driving drunk, speeding, going through a red light? No, you weren't. If I hear any more of this nonsense, I swear to God I'm going to..."

"What?" Dean snapped. "You never take meds. That time you broke your ribs, the doctor wanted to give them to you, but you refused. You said you don't like the way they made you feel. I don't either. If you don't have to take them, then why do I?"

"Because I'm your father," John shot back. _That's what this was about._ _Dean was trying to imitate him. Trying to be tough like him_. "I wanted them, son. As God is my witness, I wanted those meds. There's something you don't know about that injury, son." Dean had been hurt on that hunt, beat up by the spirit of a boy who had been bullied, and saw Dean as the jock type that had made his life a living hell. "That doctor called CPS. I needed my wits about me, so we could get out of there. There's nothing to be ashamed of in asking for pain meds, Dean, and if I hear any more nonsense about you feeling the need to punish yourself, I'll be more than happy to come up with something, and it won't be your leg that hurts when I'm done. Understand Dean Mathew?"

Dean swallowed hard. "Yes sir. Can you get Nurse Ratched, dad. It really hurts," he finally admitted.

"That wasn't so bad now, was it?" John said, glad when the nurse showed up at that moment. He sat beside Dean's bed while the nurse administered the medication, and lightly ran his fingers through Dean's hair until he drifted off to sleep.

-------

_**SLAM!!!!!!**_

The door shut so hard behind John it rattled the whole house. Sam had just managed to avoid being caught in it.

"Go do you homework," John ordered.

For once, Sam obeyed without argument. Even he wouldn't test his father in his current mood.

John's day had gone from bad to worse. After he had picked up Sam and dropped him off at the hospital, he had gone downtown to see about getting a job at one of the local garages. The only thing he was qualified to do besides hunting was be a mechanic. However, none of the garages were hiring.

He was limited as to what he could take. He needed something during the day, when Sam was in school.

He had promised Dean some M&Ms and when he had stopped at the convenience store, there was a help wanted sign in the window. One thing had gone his way that day because the owner had been in. He had three kids of his own and when John explained his situation, he had been hired. The only thing was that his shifts started at 7 in the morning. How was he going to take Sam to school? He couldn't turn the job down though. He needed the money.

Then he'd gotten into an argument with Sam at the hospital. Sam hadn't wanted to leave. Dean was out for the count, thanks to his meds, so he was no help. Finally, John just snapped and told Sam that if he didn't smarten up, he wasn't going to be allowed to visit, period.

-----

"Hey, dad," Sam called out tentatively to his father.

"What?" John asked, looking up from where he was sitting at the table.

"I was wondering if you could help me with my math. We started geometry and it's really tough."

"Sure kiddo, let me have a look," John said.

Sam took a seat next to his father and handed him his math book.

John looked over the information. _This was junior high school math? This looked like it should be taught at university, or by NASA scientists. _

Sam sat watching his father, trying to keep the amused smile off his face. He wasn't used to seeing his dad flustered.

"You sure you don't have Dean's book?" John asked.

"No, Dean takes calculus. He helps me every night though."

John tried to suppress his feeling of jealousy towards his eldest son. He should be able to help his boy with his homework.

"How about you do the best you can, and take it to the hospital tomorrow." John hated to admit defeat, but he had no choice.

"'Kay," Sam said reluctantly. He didn't want to fail the assignment. "Can I call Dean? Maybe he can help me over the phone."

John tensed. "No. Dean was asleep when we left and I don't want you to wake him."

Sam knew when it was time to give up. Something was up with his dad and he was determined to get the bottom of it.

------

The next day, John was expected to report to work. He didn't like it, but he had no choice about letting Sam walk to school on his own.

"Go right to school. No stops and don't talk to any strangers. Here's the number. Make sure you call me at the store when you get to school, so I know you got there safely," John cautioned as he handed Sam the number of the little store he was working at. "Go to the library after school, and I'll be there at 4:30 to pick you up."

"Can I go to Mark's after school? His place isn't too far. Then you can pick me up from there."

"I don't know Mark's parents."

"Dean does," Sam pointed out. "He lets me."

John tried to stop his fingers from curling into fists. "I said no!" He growled.

"But..."

"Samuel. When I say no, it's not up for discussion. Now I have to get to work. You will be at the library at 4:30."

"Fine," Sam huffed.

-----

For the next several days, it was much of the same. John was finding it a lot more difficult than he had thought it would be. Sam wasn't content to just be dropped off at the hospital, home and school. He was apparently involved with a lot of after school activities as well. When John asked Dean about them, his son let him know that sometimes he couldn't get to Sam right away, but that was how he knew where his brother was at all times.

It was just about a week after the accident when John realized that it was snowing again. This time he made sure get up early to shovel the drive so that neither he nor Sam was late.

He had just started when he noticed that his next door neighbor on the other side had come out with him.

"Hello," she greeted him in a friendly tone.

"Hello," John answered cautiously.

"How's Dean?" she asked. "I haven't seen him for a while."

_How the hell did this woman know Dean's name._ He was going to have to have a long talk with his eldest son. "He's fine," John said trying not to sound suspicious.

Not sure what to make of the situation, John watched as the lady walked back to her pathway, picked up a shovel and scooped up the tiniest amount of snow. At the rate she was going, she'd be there until next winter.

John wasn't sure what came over him, but he abandoned his own driveway and walked over to the lady. "Let me," he offered.

The woman looked at him gratefully. "Thank you," she said. "I guess that's why your son's such a gentleman."

"Dean shovelled your walk?" John asked.

"Yes. Never even asked. He just did it automatically, and I can't tell you how much it helped. With my husband's heart attack, and my arthritis, it's tough, and Sam, he often goes to the store for me. I hope you didn't think I was asking about Dean because of that?" she wondered, her tone carrying a bit of worry.

"No," John quickly assured her.

"You have such good boys. They're both such treasures."

John was beginning to realize just how much.

TBC

Hopefully the next update won't be so long. I have several more chapters written and will post them as soon as I get them back from my beta. Please read and review. It only takes one to keep the muse happy.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

As always, thanks to Soar, Sinead-Conlan and Julia Aurelia. This chapter is once again dedicated to Sylia91.

Disclaimer: I still don't own them.

"The answer's no, and that's final," John growled to his youngest son.

"But," Sam started to protest. "The game this Thursday is a really important one. The team's counting on me."

John and Sam were there for their usual visit with Dean in the evening. John had told Sam that he would drop him off at the hospital, because he wanted to check out the university library. He hadn't made it there yet.

The first week without Dean hadn't been too bad. Sam was tired and sore, so he usually didn't protest too heavily about just going to the hospital or home. Now that both he and Dean were feeling better, Sam was eager to get back to his activities, starting with his basketball game the next day. John had tried to use the accident as a way of telling Sam no, but the kid had called Dr. Perry and asked for a note that said he was fit. Dr. Perry had examined Sam and gave his consent, so John's next step was to just flat out refuse.

"Why not?" Sam huffed.

"Because _**I'm**_ the dad," John informed his youngest.

"You should let him, dad," Dean spoke up. "It's been good for him. It's really helped his stamina and team work. He's really good. His team stands a much better chance of winning if he's there," he reasoned.

"No," John said stubbornly. "I picked up an extra shift at the store, and I won't have time to get you from the gym. I don't want to have to worry about how you're getting home or here."

"Mark's mom can give me a lift if I need one," Sam pointed out.

Dean could feel his father's glare on him. "What?" he asked. "I met her, dad, she's nice. I even spilled a glass of holy water on her just to be sure. She didn't smoke or fizzle. Mark's a good kid, too. You'd really like his father, dad. He's a marine."

"But, Dean," John started.

'"I'm okay. The pain's not as bad now, honestly," Dean said when his father shot him a look. I promise I'll be good, take my meds, and not stir up any trouble. Come on dad, you're the one that said if you can't honor a commitment, you don't make it. You don't want Sam to let his team down."

"Please, dad," Sam said flashing his puppy dog eyes. "You can even meet Mark's mother if you want to. She'll drop me here after the game, and we'll both be here when you get off work."

"Fine," John huffed. "But I do want to talk to your friend's mother before I let you go with her. If I don't like her, you're not going to the game."

"You can't just say you don't like her, dad," Dean added a condition, knowing his father.

"Fine," John huffed again, sounding like a teenager. "Sam, we'd better get going. Dean, we'll see you tomorrow." He rose and headed for the door.

"'Kay. I wish I could come see your game tomorrow, Sammy. I know you're going to kick butt."

"Thanks for helping me, Dean. You're the best," Sam said with a grateful grin thrown towards his brother.

John visibly tensed at Sam's words. For whatever reason, he felt like they had just stabbed him through the heart.

------

"Good afternoon, Dean," Nurse Hatcher greeted her young patient as she came into the room.

"When can I get rid of this?" Dean asked immediately, pointing to his IV.

"Soon," she said patiently. "Dr. Curtis is usually very cautious about infection control."

"It's hard to write with it in," Dean said pointing to his school books.

"Just do your best. Do you need this?" Nurse Hatcher said holding the bed pan out to him.

Dean turned toward the wall and felt himself flush red. He was always embarrassed about it, and was counting the seconds until he got out of traction, and then he'd never take going to the washroom for granted again.

After taking care of business, Dean decided that he might as well get his homework out of the way too. Being in traction was uncomfortable and it really sucked, but Dean had to admit that lying in bed all day was kind of a nice change.

He had full control of the remote, and the hospital had more stations than they did at their house. He had read the books his father had given him, and the magazines. He had started on the puzzle book, but they were boring. Once he got the hang of them, they were way too easy, even the ones that were labelled as hard.

The thing that surprised him the most was his homework. With minimal distractions, he was able to put all his effort into it, and he had caught up in all his subjects. The two assignments he had turned in had both gotten B's.

He drained half his battery supply listening to his walkman, enjoying defying his father by listening when he did his homework, something that John forbid.

So Dean was actually behaving himself when it happened. He had read the current chapter in his history textbook and was answering the questions at the end of the chapter. He was writing his answer to the third question when he dropped his pen and it rolled off the table and on to the bed. Not thinking, Dean reached with his right hand when he felt a tug. He looked down and could see a small spot of red where the IV needle had been, and the line dangling next to him.

_Oh no, he thought_. He was in for it now. The last time, he had done it intentionally, so they'd never believe it was a complete accident now. _I haven't complained about meds in days. Maybe they'd buy it, he tried to convince himself. _Maybe if he could reach the line he could reinsert it himself. He'd seen it done plenty of times. How hard could it be?

He reached out with his right hand, grabbed the line, and pulled it toward him. He now had the needle in his hand. The problem was that the IV was still flowing and it was making a mess on his sheets. He looked to the stand, but he realized that he had no idea how to make it stop dripping. He held it off to the side so that the liquid dripped on the floor. Knowing it was hopeless, Dean picked up the call button and pushed the buzzer.

To say that Nurse Hatcher was not pleased when she showed up was an understatement. Dean tried to explain that it was an accident, but his pleas fell on deaf ears, as she said she was going to get Dean's doctor.

_Great, you stupid screw up. _His doctor was going to call his father, who was going to have to leave work, who was going to find some reason to blame this incident on Sam being at his basketball game and make his brother miss the game. _Do the words waste of space mean anything to you, dumbass?_

"Dean, I thought we'd had this discussion," Dr. Curtis admonished her young patient.

"I swear it was an accident. I was writing and I just pulled my hand too hard," Dean pleaded his case.

"How did the IV fluid get on your sheet? Did it get there when you pulled it out?"

"No," Dean protested. "I just thought that maybe..." He stopped abruptly. He knew his doctor wouldn't think too highly of the fact that he had been contemplating putting it back in on his own.

"Thought what?' Dr. Curtis said.

"That I could put it back in," Dean admitted under her harsh glare.

"It's good that you didn't. The needle's not sterile anymore, so you would have been opening yourself up to infection, not to mention the fact that you could hurt yourself from putting it in wrong. I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable, Dean. You just need to understand just how bad it would be for you to get an infection in your leg. If you do, and we can't get it under control, it could lead to amputation."

Dean went sheet white at her words. _They were going to cut off his leg? They couldn't do that? Could they? His dad would never let them. Would he?_

"Dean, take a deep breath." He could hear the words cut sharply through his fog. He complied with the order and looked at his doctor, his eyes pleading.

"So far, everything's good. You don't have a temperature, and I'm sorry I scared you, but you need to know the seriousness of this situation."

"I won't touch it anymore. I promise. Don't take my leg," Dean said in a small voice.

Unfornately, Dean didn't realize that his words had sounded to the doctor like he had, once again, deliberately pulled it out.

"Right now, there's very little danger of having to amputate, everything's healing fine and we want to make sure it stays that way. Now, I hate to have to do this, Dean, but it's for your own safety."

"You're not going to restrain me. Don't. I didn't do it on purpose, I won't touch it again. I won't even look at it. Just don't put those things on me," Dean said, hating himself for begging.

Dr. Curtis left and Nurse Hatcher came back into the room with a new IV bag. She proceeded to insert the needle efficiently into Dean's left hand.

When she was done, Dr. Curtis re-entered the room with 2 padded cuffs that she attached to the bed rails.

What Dean didn't know was that Dr. Curtis had no intentions of actually restraining him, just putting the cuffs on the rails.

There was no way in hell Dean was letting her anywhere near him with those things, so when he saw her approach, he tried to back away, pulling both his legs toward him in an attempt to get away.

Pain exploded throughout Dean's broken leg. He stopped moving and tried to sit up to grab it, but as he moved it again, a fresh burst of white hot agony overrode his senses.

Dean whimpered and let loose a string of curse words. He felt a burning sensation up his arm, and then everything faded into darkness.

-----

"Hey, mister, I want a pack of Camels."

John Winchester looked up at the kid standing before him, asking for smokes. He didn't look older than 16 or 17.

"Your parents know you smoke?" John asked.

"You ain't my mother. Camels," the kid repeated.

"You got ID?"

"'Course," the kid said handing over the small piece of plastic.

John looked down at the worst fake ID he had ever seen. "It's amazing," John said looking at the kid. "The people they hire to make these ID's. I mean, you would think they would know that Minnesota is spelled with 2 N's."

The kid didn't even have the nerve to look worried at the fact that he'd been caught. "What the hell are you hassling me for, old man? It's just a pack of smokes."

"Get out, _**NOW!"**_ John growled.

The kid didn't need to be told twice. He didn't even look at John as he turned and ran.

_Still got it, John thought with a smile. _

_**RING RING**_

"Hello, Max's Convenience." The smile quickly evaporated when he found out it was the hospital. They informed him that Dean had removed his IV and strained his leg. He was okay, but they felt that John should get there as soon as possible.

Slamming the phone down, John grabbed his jacket from the hook behind him and bolted for the door. He stopped just short of it. He couldn't just leave, there was no one else to watch the store. He called his boss, but there was no answer. He called the guy that usually worked the night shift. Again, no answer. Cursing, John sat on the stool and contemplated his options. He had to get to the hospital, but if he left the store unattended, he'd get fired and he really couldn't afford that, but he also couldn't leave his son alone. Dean had been doing so well the last few days, something had to have set him off, and John wanted to get to the bottom of it.

He tried his boss once more. No answer. He cursed. _Screw it, he thought. _His boys came first. If his boss didn't like it, it was just too damn bad. John grabbed the store keys, flipped the sign from open to closed, set the alarm and locked the door.

-----

John found Dean lying in his hospital bed. He was sleeping and both his wrists were strapped into padded cuffs.

"Mr. Winchester," Dr. Curtis said, entering the room. "Thanks for coming."

"What happened?" John said.

"I'm not sure. Dean pulled his IV, and then I explained just how serious it could be if he didn't cooperate with his treatment plan. I was just going to hang the restraint cuffs on his bed, kind of like a warning. He tried to back away, and when he did, he almost pulled his leg out of the traction sling. He was in pain, so we sedated him to keep from panicking. We put the restraints on so he wouldn't hurt himself when he woke up."

"You can take them off now," John instructed.

"It's for his own good, Mr. Winchester. We had to take him for x-rays to make sure he didn't do any damage to his leg from moving it. Fortunately, it's fine."

"I'm here now. I'll watch him," John said firmly. Dean had broken 6 ribs in a poltergeist attack when he was 13. He had needed a chest tube and a vent. They'd been forced to put on restraints then because Dean kept trying to pull both tubes out. It had been a rough week for all of them. As a result, Dean hated having his hands tied down. It usually caused him to panic. John hadn't told the doctor that because CPS had investigated his injuries at the time, and it was a miracle that John hadn't lost the boys to foster care.

_Could you be a worse father? Why the hell didn't you tell that doctor what she could do with her restraints? I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry. Why don't you tell him that, asshole?_

"I think it would be best..."

"I don't give a rat's ass what you think. Get those things off him _**NOW!" **_John ordered.

Before the doctor could remove the offending objects, Dean started to stir. He groaned and blinked. He could see the water pitcher sitting on his bedside table. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. He reached for it, but his hand held fast. Fear rapidly filled his eyes and John could see that he was about to lose it, so he quickly stepping into his son's line of sight.

"I'm here, buddy. Just relax, okay?" John said soothingly.

Dean was trying to get his wits about him. He was just so foggy from the drugs. "Take them off, dad, please. I won't touch my tubes anymore, I promise. Please, dad," he said in a voice that made him sound 13.

"I believe you, kiddo. Hold still now, I'll have them off soon," John said gently as he worked to remove the cuffs.

Dean pulled his arms to his body, as if to prevent them from being restrained again. He looked at his father. "It's still there, right?" he asked, afraid of the answer.

John frowned. "What is, Dean?"

"My leg. It's still there, right? They didn't take it?"

"Yeah, kiddo," John said as he stroked Dean's head, trying to comfort him. He looked up and shot a murderous glare at the doctor. "I asked you not to tell him that."

"He needed to know how important it was that he follow instructions."

"He did not need to know. You said the odds of it happening were slim to none. The only thing you did was upset him. Now get these out of here and don't bring them near my son again. Understand?" He said angrily.

Dr. Curtis decided not to upset the distraught father any longer. She just removed the restraints from the bed rails and left the room, saying she'd be back to check up on Dean later.

John sat next to Dean and continued to soothe him, assuring him that he was not in any danger of losing his leg. The doctors were just being overly cautious. He just thanked his lucky stars that he had been available to take the call tonight.

That stopped John's thoughts cold. What if he hadn't been there? There were plenty of times he was away on a hunt. What if Sam was sick or hurt? Did Dean leave school like he'd had to leave work? If Dean got sick who was there to pick him up, and comfort him?

"I'm here, Dean. I'm not going anywhere, kiddo. You can count on that," John vowed to his son, determined to keep his promise.

TBC

Please read and review. It makes my day and keeps the muse happy.

A/N: I did take some dramatic license with this chapter. I know that doctor's probably wouldn't restrain someone for pulling an IV, but I wanted John to face an emergency where he had to make a really tough decision, but I didn't want it to be life threatening.


	7. Chapter 7

This chapter is dedicated to Sylia91. Thanks, as always, to Soar, JuliaAurelia and Sinead-Conlan. Dean's story In the Company of Dragons belongs to Ridley C. James.

Chapter 7.

Disclaimer: I still don't own.

_"I'm here, Dean. I'm not going anywhere, kiddo, you can count on that," John vowed to his son, and was determined to keep it._

John Winchester was not proud to say that he had kept that promise for exactly 12 hours.

The remainder of that day had been spent at the hospital. The only time John had left was to go pick Sam up from school, and the two of them had spent the rest of the day visiting with Dean.

Then, when he had gotten home, things had gone down hill, fast.

He had made the mistake of checking the mailbox. The only thing it contained was bills. The phone company and his credit card company were both threatening suspension if he didn't pay the due balance. He wasn't too worried about the credit card, it was maxed, and couldn't be used anyway. The phone was a different story. He couldn't be without one in case the hospital needed to contact him. He nearly fainted when he saw how much the power bill was. He now understood why the heat was always so low. He was going to have to make arrangements to pay that because it was freezing outside, and they couldn't go without heat.

He also had the next payment of the hospital bill for Sam and Dean's treatment to pay, rent was coming due and they needed to eat, not to mention the bills he'd get when Dean started physical therapy.

John went to the fridge to grab a beer. He sent Sam to bed, sat down at the kitchen table and grabbed his check book.

His guilt was ever present when he wrote a check for the phone company, the power company, and one for the hospital. The money that was going to cover them was the last of Dean's prize money. He quickly calculated what he would make from his job and wrote a post dated check for the rent. Then the phone rang.

It had been his boss wondering what had happened, and why his receipts were so low for the day. John had to admit what had occured. He did catch one break when his boss, being a father himself, sympathized with John. He wasn't fired, but he did have to pay him back for what he had lost. His pay checks, which weren't that much to begin with, were going to be cut in half for the next couple of weeks.

He voided the rent check he had just written and wrote out one for half of that amount. He would talk to the landlord in the morning to see if he could pay the rest next week.

He did a revised budget and he realized that he was well and truly screwed. There was nowhere he could cut back. The only way he was going to be able to do this was to get a second job, which meant breaking the vow he had made to both his sons. He remembered that he had been looking forward to spending time with both his sons while Dean was recovering. Now, he was going to be working in the morning, in the evenings and a third job on weekends might even be necessary. He couldn't fall behind on the hospital payments. He'd heard horror stories about people being released early because they couldn't pay, and there was no way he was jeopardizing Dean's recovery.

When he went to bed that night, John pulled out the picture of Mary that he kept in his wallet. For the first time ever, he didn't wish that she was here. He was glad that she wasn't, so she couldn't see the mess he'd made of things. She would be so disappointed in him.

------

Being worried had really interfered with John's sleep habits, he had spent all night tossing and turning, and in the end, had only slept for about an hour. So to say he was not in a good mood when he got up the next morning was definitely an understatement.

Things went from bad to worse that morning. He had forgotten to set the alarm, and the small amount of time he actually did sleep, had been during the time he should have been up, so he was running behind. Sam had announced that he had no clean clothes, and there were no clean dishes for breakfast. That was when John realized just how messy the house was. It was something that grated on John's order loving nerves. He made a mental note that he was going to have to get to it sometime this weekend.

Then he couldn't find his keys and the phone started ringing. The first call had been the phone company, the second had been his credit card company. The third time the phone rang, it had gotten on his last nerve.

_**"The checks in the mail!"**_he screamed at the poor operator on the other end.

_"Dad?" came a timid voice from the other end._

"Dean?" John questioned.

_"Yeah, is this a bad time?"_

"No, kiddo, 'course not," John said trying to soften his tone. "How are you feeling this morning?"

_"Fine," Dean said and didn't elaborate. "Maybe I should call back," he suggested._

"Don't hang up," John ordered. "It's just, I have to get to work, and I don't want Sam to be late for school and..."

_"You lost your keys again. Did you check the refrigerator?"_

"The fridge?" John said in disbelief. "I didn't leave them in the fridge, Dean. Maybe they nee..." John stopped abruptly. He had been about to say that maybe they needed to cut back on Dean's pain meds, but he didn't need to give Dean an excuse to open that can of worms again. "They're not in the fridge," he insisted.

_"Bet you went home last night, and the first thing you did was go to the fridge for a beer. Did you have your keys in your hands?" Dean asked confidently. _

"Sammy," John called. "Do me a favour, check the fridge, see if there's anything unusual in there."

_"Hey, dad," Dean called to get his father's attention. "Are you going to be able to visit__tonight?" he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral._

Even being a lousy father, John picked up on the fact that Dean was trying to hide that he was lonely. It just about killed him. "I, um, I can't," he said.

_"That's okay," Dean replied, trying to sound like it was. _

"It's not that, Dean. I picked up a double shift today," John lied. He didn't want to admit he was going hunting for a second job. "I should be able to visit for a few minutes after I drop Sammy off this morning."

"No problem. Do you think you could bring me some more magazines?"

"Don't you have school work?" John deflected. He literally didn't have the money for magazines.

"I'm all caught up, except for what you bring me today," Dean said proudly. "I'm even ahead in math."

"What about those books I brought?" John asked.

"I read 'em. I even read the ones you bought Sam."

"You can work on those puzzles," John said, trying to come up with a suggestion that didn't involve him buying anything.

"They're way too easy, and way too boring," Dean replied.

"So you have nothing to do this morning?" John asked. This was not good.

"No, not until you bring me my school assignments," Dean replied. "They usually only take an hour."

John couldn't say that he felt Dean should spend more time on his school work. His assignments were getting A's and B's. "Write me another chapter of your story," he requested.

"My what?"

"In the Company of Dragons."

"It's done," Dean replied. "You said you read it."

John cursed himself. Dean sounded hurt. "I did," he insisted. "I know the dragons won, but expand on something. What about the time Athewm, Belac and Samuel spent at the fair?" There was a spot in the story where the three skipped training and spent the day at a carnival. "Why was Samuel afraid of clowns after you returned?"

"I guess," Dean replied hesitantly.

"Oh, and Dean?"

"Yeah dad?"

"I want it written in Latin."

"Latin?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"Yes, Latin," John said, pleased that he had come up with a way to keep Dean occupied.

"Yes, sir," Dean said with a sigh. "Tell Sammy I'll see him tomorrow."

"Dean, Sam's going to be there today, after school."

"It's Friday. Isn't he going to the movies with his friends?" Dean asked in confusion. Sam, Tom and Mark went to the movies every Friday. He had guessed Sam would be going tonight because he was feeling better.

"No," John replied, trying to sound like he knew what Dean was talking about. "He said he would stay with you tonight," he lied.

"Really?" Dean asked. His tone was a mixture of surprise, pleasure and disbelief, like he wanted to believe it, but wasn't sure if he did.

"Yeah," John said. "I'll be there in about an hour, and I'll drop Sam off at the usual time."

"Kay, see you later, dad," Dean replied, hoping his dad hadn't picked up on the fact that Dean really hated being alone.

"See ya, kiddo," John replied hanging up the phone.

"Hey, dad, I found your keys," Sam said as he came around the corner. "They were in the fridge next to the beer. What?" he suddenly added when he felt his father glaring at him.

"Something you need to tell me?" John asked.

"Um," Sam said, trying to wrack his brain to figure out what his father was talking about.

"Something about a movie that you think you're going to tonight?" John prompted his son.

"I go every Friday night. I was going to ask you if I could go tonight," Sam defended himself.

"The answer's no," John replied.

"But I go every Friday," Sam repeated.

"I need you to stay with your brother," John answered. "I have to work a double today, so I can't visit him for more than a few minutes to drop off his assignments. I'd really prefer it if he wasn't left by himself all day." That was one excuse, the other one being that movies cost money.

"We were with him almost all day yesterday. He won't care about one day," Sam pleaded his case.

"You had a basketball game yesterday, and look at what happened," John reminded Sam.

"That's not my fault," Sam pointed out. "Dean said it was an accident and I think he learned his lesson."

"Samuel, you're going to the hospital after school. Enough, now let's go, you're going to be late for school as it is."

"So he screws up and I pay the price?" Sam huffed as he grabbed his backpack, and slammed through the front door, not even holding it for his father.

"Does the word grounded mean anything to you?" John snapped back after he and Sam climbed into the car. He could feel a headache developing, and the day hadn't really even started.

"I don't see what difference it makes. I don't get to do anything, anyway."

John's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "Samuel, that's enough," he said tensely. "One more word and for the next month, there will be no friends, phone calls, basketball games, television and whatever the hell else you do."

"I repeat," Sam said boldly. "How is that any different from now?"

"Damn it, Sam, that's it. Make it two months."

That was the last words that father and son spoke to each other.

------

"This sucks," Dean said as he scribbled out another paragraph. He really didn't want to be doing this. That story had been a one shot deal. Now he had to write more, and in Latin, no less. He really didn't want his father knowing the full story behind why Sam was afraid of clowns. His dad would probably break his other leg if he knew the full story behind the prank he and Caleb had pulled.

"Hey, man, that looks like it does suck," a voice called from the doorway.

Dean looked up and saw a boy about his own age standing in the doorway. He looked vaguely familiar to the young hunter.

"This?" Dean asked pointing to the traction frame.

"Yeah, does it hurt?" he asked the inevitable question.

Dean shrugged. "Not too much, as long as I don't move it." _Justin, that was it. _He worked in the student resource room with Dean.

"Must be nice lying in bed all day," Justin said.

"It has its moments," Dean admitted. "But it gets boring fast."

"Hope it's okay that I came to visit you," Justin said hesitantly.

"Why wouldn't it?" Dean asked, hoping he didn't sound too curious. He had said hi to Justin a few times, but he didn't know him that well. The boy kept to himself mostly. He tutored math, like Dean, in addition to English, history, and social studies. He was probably the smartest kid in Dean's class. He had always reminded Dean a lot of Sam.

"It's just… I wanted to see how you were doing. I think Shelly misses you," Justin said.

Shelly had been a girl that Dean had been tutoring. She was on the cheerleading team, and seemed a lot more interested in flirting with her tutor than actually learning.

"Thanks for coming," Dean said sincerely.

"Hey, I read this," Justin said picking up the copy of Brave New World that had been sitting on Dean's bed.

"It was good," Dean admitted. "It was my dad's favourite book when he was a kid."

"Wish we had some Soma for Parrish's class," Justin said naming their social studies teacher. The man could put an insomniac to sleep. Soma was the drug people took in the book that kept them in a happy, dream like state.

Dean laughed and had to agree. "Aren't you supposed to be in school?" Dean asked.

Justin shrugged. "I took a mental health day."

"Your parents let you?" Dean asked in surprise. He went to school, not just for mental health, but physical as well. They had to stay off the radar of social services, and going to school was a big part of that. If he took a day off without a good reason, his father would have killed him.

"Yeah, once in a while, I just need a break, mom understands that."

"What do you need a break from?" Dean asked.

"Just school. There are some guys on the football team whose grades are below passing. They seem to think I should just do their work for them, rather than coming to tutoring. I try to avoid them, but sometimes it's not easy," Justin confessed. "When do you get out of here?" he asked changing the subject. He wasn't sure why he had confessed that.

Actually, Justin wasn't sure why he was here at all. He had needed something to do, and on the spur of the moment, he had decided to come by the hospital. Justin knew Dean vaguely. Like himself, Dean didn't have many friends and he kept to himself mostly. He had just decided to take a chance. He had been in the hospital once, to have his appendix removed, and he knew how long the days were.

"Not soon enough," Dean replied. "Thanks for coming, though," he said sincerely. "I was bored out of my mind."

"No big deal. I can stay for a bit," he suggested timidly.

"Great, thanks man," Dean replied. He would have accepted the company of a demon at that point, he was so bored.

"Have you read the Lord of the Rings?"

"No. My brother has though."

"It's the best book ever written. I can loan it to you. It should kill some time while you're in here," Justin offered.

"Sure," Dean agreed. "My brother swears by it. I did read The Hobbit, though."

"That was a classic. What's your favourite book?"

"One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," Dean said immediately. "Did you read that one?"

"No, not yet."

"I can loan it to you, if you want," Dean offered.

------

John was rapidly coming to the conclusion that working in a convenience store sucked. He'd had a confrontation with one customer over the price of milk. The guy had been convinced that John had doubled the price and was pocketing the difference. He caught a kid shoplifting. The boy was no older than Sam, and John had decided to just put the fear of God into him, rather than calling the police. The boy had gone home in tears. His mother had then shown up, and rather than being grateful that John hadn't had her son arrested, she had torn a strip off the hunter, making it sound like John's fault that her kid was a thief.

Plus, John jumped every time the phone rang. He was expecting it to be the hospital, saying something was wrong with Dean. He just couldn't wait until Dean was released. He'd feel more comfortable if Dean was home.

He was never so glad to see a day end. He went to the school and picked up Sam. Tensions were still high between them and Sam refused to speak or look at him. He dropped Sam off at the hospital and told him that he'd be back to pick him up later. Sam's response was to slam the door.

-----

The youngest Winchester stormed into the hospital and into the elevator. He tried not to let his face show his frustrations though. Sam wasn't mad at his brother. After all, Dean would have let him go out with his friends.

The problem was that Sam didn't have Dean's poker face, and as soon as Dean saw him, he knew that Sam was in a bad mood, and it confirmed Dean's suspicions that being at the hospital wasn't Sam's first choice.

"Hey, Sammy, thanks for staying with me tonight," Dean replied, trying to keep frustration out his voice. He had been having a good day. Justin had stayed until supper, and it turned out that they had a lot in common. He had promised to visit tomorrow after school, and Dean found himself looking forward to the visit.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked genuinely. He really did want his big brother to be alright.

"Fine," Dean replied. "Really, Sammy," Dean added when it looked like Sam was about to say something. "How was school?"

"Fine," Sam ground out in a much harsher tone than he'd meant to.

"You don't sound like it," Dean asked in concern before he could stop himself, his big brother instincts taking over.

It gave Sam the opening he had been waiting for. "He's impossible," Sam stated firmly.

"Sammy, please," Dean said softly. He wasn't up for an argument about their father.

"I just wanted to go to the movies. What's the big deal?" Dean's pleas had fallen on deaf ears.

"I thought... never mind," Dean started and then stopped. "Sammy, don't. Not today okay," Dean pleaded. He was feeling hurt that Sam had chosen to be with his friends. He knew he shouldn't, it was only one night, and Dean usually had a date on Friday nights. It was the one small amount of time he had allowed for himself. So it wasn't like they usually spent them together anyway.

"Why do you defend him all the time?"

"I'm not defending him. I'm just..."

"Good evening boys," Nurse Hatcher said interrupting Dean's thoughts as she stepped into the room. She gave Dean a quick exam, taking his vitals, and checking the stitches on his leg, and then she changed out his IV bag. "Ready, for this?" she asked Dean, as she held up a syringe.

"Just get it over with," Dean said as he held up the hand that had the IV. He hated this almost as much as he did the pain meds.

With his leg being immobilized, he was at risk for blood clots, so they gave him daily injections of something called heparin, which thinned the blood and kept it circulating. The damned stuff stung like a...

_**"Son of a bitch!"**_ Dean cursed and squeezed his eyes shut when the medicine hit his bloodstream.

"Dean!" Sam said, all his frustrations with his father forgotten.

"I'm okay," Dean hissed. "It just stings for a few minutes. That's all, Sammy, I swear," Dean said honestly.

Sam looked to the nurse, who confirmed Dean's words.

It seemed to erase all the tension between the brothers.

Things would have been fine, except that John had one piece of good luck happen that day. His boss owned a second store on the other side of town. He told John that his night shift guy had quit, and if he wanted, he could pick up the extra shifts. John accepted gratefully. It didn't take him long to learn the new routine, and his boss told him that he could start tomorrow if he wanted to spend some time with his sons.

When he arrived at the hospital, Dean had been happy to see him, but Sam only saw the fact that John appeared to have lied to him. He had said that he was working a double, and that was why he wouldn't let Sam go to the movies.

"I thought you were working," was exactly how he greeted his father.

"I was," John explained trying to keep his temper in check. "My boss let me off early."

Sam opened his mouth to speak.

"Hey, dad," Dean said before Sam could say anything. "How was work?"

"Fine," he gave the standard Winchester answer when he didn't want to elaborate. "Did you get anything written?"

"No," Dean said defensively. "A guy I know from school stopped by for a visit. I didn't get chance. My homework is done, though. I'll try to get to it tomorrow."

"It's okay, son," John replied. "It was just a suggestion to keep you occupied."

"I left my IV alone today," Dean huffed, thinking his father was accusing him. "Yesterday was an accident, dad, I swear."

"Dean, calm down, okay? I believe you."

"I didn't do it intentionally," he couldn't resist adding.

"Enough. I said I believe you," John said, trying not to sound frustrated. It was bad enough that he and Sam were snapping at each other. He didn't need to do it with Dean too.

Things were a little tense between all three Winchesters. Dean turned on the TV to try and break the silence, but when a commercial for the movie Sam had wanted to see came on, all hell broke loose.

"I could have gone," Sam mumbled under his breath. He hadn't meant for his father to hear that, but of course, John did.

"Samuel," he warned.

"What? You told me I couldn't go because I had to stay and keep Dean company."

"Gee thanks, Sammy," Dean said sarcastically.

"That's not what I meant, Dean. I know you don't need a babysitter, but you know what?" he said looking directly at his dad. "I don't either. I'm 13."

"I know how old you are, Samuel," John said trying to keep his temper in check.

"I'm surprised, given how many birthdays you missed," Sam blurted out before he could stop himself. He really hadn't meant to say that.

John's temper snapped. He couldn't hold back anymore. "Okay, son, I screwed up. Is that what you want to hear? I'm not perfect."

"Tell me about it," Sam huffed.

"Stop," Dean said, his eyes going back and forth between his father and brother.

"Samuel, what I do, it's important, it saves lives."

"Then go save some," Sam shot back. "We don't need you here. Me and Dean do just fine without you."

"Don't bring me into this. Don't do this, not here, Sammy, dad," Dean said again, only to find himself ignored.

"I'm your father..."

"You're not there. Dean..."

"Dean follows orders!"

"Dad, Sammy," Dean said trying to get their attention. His words died on his lips at Sam's next words.

"Saint Dean, doesn't do anything wrong. I'm so sorry I can't be like him. I'm sorry I'm not some mindless robot that can't think for himself."

Dean flinched. Did Sam really look at him that way? He did what dad told him to because he had to keep his family safe. He knew first hand what happened if you didn't follow orders. People died. Dean listened as the fight continued. He tried to get their attention, but the voices of his father and his brother kept getting louder and louder. Dean tried to block out their words, as he usually did. There he was nothing he hated more than when his brother and his father fought over him. Dean was startled out of his thoughts when he heard his brother shout.

_**"I HATE YOU! DEAN WOULD HAVE LET ME GO!"**_

_**"GOD DAMN IT, SAMUEL. DEAN IS NOT YOUR FATHER, I AM!"**_

"What's going on in here?" an angry voice said from the hallway.

The Winchesters looked up and saw Dr. Curtis standing in the doorway with Nurse Hatcher and a security guard.

"I had the TV up too loud," Dean tried to cover.

"This is a hospital," Dr. Curtis admonished. "We have sick people here who are trying to recover. Your own son is one of them. I think you had better leave."

"I'm sorry," John tried to apologize.

"Leave now," Dr. Curtis said. "Or I won't hesitate to throw you out. Just thank your lucky stars I'm not barring you permanently.

"We're leaving," John conceded. He didn't want any more trouble. "Dean, I'm sorry. We'll be back tomorrow."

Dean grabbed the bar and pulled himself up so that he was propped on his elbows. He ignored the pain that flared in his leg. "No," Dean replied.

"Son, I didn't mean..."

Dean glared at his father. "You never mean for it to happen, but it always does. Just go away. _**Both**_ of you!"

"Dean, I didn't mean to say..."

"You said it. I'm making up my mind, _**my mind, **_Sam. I don't want either of you here. Just go away. I don't want to hear you arguing about me. "

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from his father and brother. John tried to lay a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder, but he wasn't surprised when Dean shook it off. He was used to yelling at Sam, but he wasn't used to Dean getting mad, and the senior hunter was at a loss as to how to handle it.

"Alright, call me when you're ready, Dean," John said. How had things escalated so badly?

John and Sam left the room. They didn't fail to notice that the security guard walked closely behind them until they were out the door. Sam crawled into the back seat of the car as John took the driver's seat. Not a word was spoken on the way home.

When they arrived back at the house, Sam went straight to his room and slammed the door. John did the same. He sat on the bed and pulled the picture of Mary out of his wallet. He didn't try to stop the tears that escaped as he apologized to her, over and over. He had screwed up so badly, and he didn't even know where to begin to fix things.

Please read and review. It makes my day.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Dedicated to Sylia91. Thanks as always, to Soar, JuliaAurelia and Sinead-Conlan

Disclaimer: Still don't own them.

Dean awoke early the next morning. It hadn't been a good night, he hadn't wanted to sleep because he was worried about nightmares. He didn't have them often, but when he did, they tended to hit hard and he was worried about accidentally pulling his IV again. He didn't want them to have to call his father. Right now, his father and brother were the last people he wanted to see.

Dean loved his family more than anything, but right now, he was sure he hated them. Why did they always have to fight? Was it too much to ask that just for one day, they didn't have to snipe at each other, or if they had to fight, was it too much to ask to not be put in the middle, something that seemed to be happening more and more. It seemed, in addition to being in the middle, he was actually the subject of the argument, and he Dean found himself sick of it.

It really hurt when the two people he cared about the most argued about him. He just wished he knew how to stop it.

He didn't always follow orders, and he wasn't a saint. Sam knew that, because his brother had covered for him, when he screwed up many times.

The biggest cover up came from a party that Dean had really wanted to go to, he had a date with Rebecca Evans, one of the hottest girls in school, but John had said no. Sam covered for him then, and the following morning, when Dean had been hungover. He wasn't supposed to have been drinking.

He wasn't a mindless robot either, he could make decisions for himself, and he had, even stupid ones. He and Rebecca had ended up in the back of the Impala. It was the first time for both of them, and they had been so caught up in the moment that they hadn't used a condom.

Sam had sat with him at the doctor's office while Rebecca had a check up. He was relieved to know that his dad had no idea how close he had come to being a grandfather. Dean was forever grateful that Sam never held that over his head. It would be prime black mail material for anything Sam wanted.

The thought of that time, when Sam had his back, was getting to him the most. He missed those times, and now it seemed that the only times Sam wanted anything to do with him was when he let his brother get his own way.

He really had to stop this line of thought. The problem was that he didn't have anything else to do. His father hadn't brought him any magazines, and he had made up his mind that he wasn't going to write anymore. _See Sammy, I can make my own decisions. _

He was actually thankful when Nurse Hatcher showed up for his check up, it gave him something else to think about, and he was glad that his nurse didn't mention the day before.

"Well, Dean, I do have some good news for you," Nurse Hatcher said as she finished noting Dean's chart.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Dr. Curtis is very pleased with your progress, and ordered that your IV be removed this morning."

"Seriously?" Dean asked, afraid to believe it.

"Yes," Nurse Hatcher said and gave a small laugh at the way her patient's eyes lit up.

"When do I get out of this?" he asked indicating the traction frame.

"Dr. Curtis is hoping for early next week."

"Can't you just cast it?" Dean requested.

"The break was severe, Dean. It's going to take time to heal, and these things can't be rushed."

"It sucks," Dean mumbled.

"Hey, it's not so bad. You get the pleasure of my company," Nurse Hatcher joked. She truly felt for her patient. She had a feeling that the scene from last night was not a one time occurrence. "Give me your hand and we'll get that out for you," she added after failing to get a rise out of her patient. She knew how bad he must be feeling, because he always had a quick come back line for her. "Do you want to call your family?" she offered as she put a bandage over the spot where she had pulled the needle.

"No," Dean mumbled.

"Okay," Nurse Hatcher said gently. "Do you need anything?"

"No," Dean said, shaking his head. "I'm still a bit tired. I think I'll try and take a nap."

"Okay," Nurse Hatcher said. She didn't want to press him. "You know how to get in touch if you need anything."

"Thanks," Dean said sincerely.

------

The long morning that Dean was currently facing got even longer when his next visitor showed up. He was working on homework, his dad was respecting his wishes and had one of the orderlies drop it off, he was having trouble concentrating though, and couldn't work out the answer to the problem. Getting frustrated, he swiped his hand across the table and swept his books onto the floor. He cursed himself when he realized that he was going to need help to pick them up.

"I used to do that with my math book as well," a voice said as a stranger came in and picked up the book.

Dean startled and looked up at the sound of the voice. He cursed himself when he realized that he hadn't even heard anyone come into the room. Some hunter he was.

"Thanks," he said as he accepted the book, and he immediately felt himself tense up when he saw the official looking woman standing before him.

She was dressed in a light brown, business suit. Her hair was pulled back away from her face in a bun. Dean knew instantly who she worked for, he'd dealt with her kind before.

"Hello, Dean, I'm Samantha Anderson. I work for DCFS," Samantha said as she stretched her hand toward the young man in the bed. She wasn't surprised when he ignored it and could see the mask that slammed down over Dean's features at her introduction. She had a feeling that he had spoken to her department before, and she made a mental note to check on his files.

Dean continued to eye her warily as she took a seat next to his bed.

"It's standard procedure for us to be called when there is an incident like the one last night."

"It was just an argument. My dad's got two teenagers. They happen," Dean said hoping to make this go away.

"I understand that, Dean," she said gently, hoping to work through his defences. "It's just that the argument was overheard by several people, and there were some rather troubling statements. What about your brother telling your father that he wished he would just go away again. Does your father go away a lot?"

"No," Dean lied.

"Then why did your brother comment that he liked it better when your father wasn't home and you were in charge?"

"Look lady," Dean snapped. "You need to get you facts straight. I look after my brother while my dad's at work. I tend to let Sam get away with more. You tell a teenager no, they get in a snit. That's all it was," he insisted.

"I'm not the enemy here..."

"Then stop trying to make my dad sound like the bad guy. He's not. He's the best dad there is."

"Then why don't you want to see him, or talk to him?"

"Who said that?" Dean demanded. He was going to kill his nurse.

"You did, last night," Samantha reminded Dean.

"Well, I was just mad. Didn't you ever say something you didn't mean?"

"Why were you mad?"

"It's not going to work," Dean said, not wanting to say something he would regret. "My dad is an awesome dad, and I wouldn't trade my little brother for anything. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, I do," Samantha said. "Tell me about the night of the accident."

"The police report is a matter of public record, look it up," Dean sniped.

"You were on the way to the school when a drunk driver ran a red light..."

"If you knew, why did you ask? Don't you need my dad's permission to talk to me?" Dean asked.

"No, I can speak to you without a parent's permission."

Dean suddenly wished that Sammy was here. The kid knew everything, and Dean had no idea if she was lying to him or not. Dean realized that she was talking again and he forced himself to pay attention.

"Why wasn't your father with you?"

"He had to work," Dean lied.

"Does your father miss a lot of things with you and your brother?"

Dean couldn't take it anymore. "Stop it!" he insisted. "I told you before, my dad's the best. Any kid would be lucky to have him. You may not need my dad's permission, but you know what, you need mine, and I'm done talking."

Dean really wished that he could storm out of the room, but he was stuck. He settled for staring at the wall.

"There are still a few more..."

"Get out!" Dean insisted. "I'm not answering any more questions."

Knowing she would get no further, Samantha stood up. She decided that this wasn't over .

Dean watched her walk out the door, but he knew that she wasn't gone for good. He picked up the phone and dialled the convenience store where his father worked.

"Dad, it's Dean. We've got trouble."

-------

Giving one last disgusted look at the pile of slop in front of him, Dean dropped his fork on the plastic tray of the thing they said was food. He'd have to take the "if you don't eat, you won't get better" lecture from his nurse, but Dean decided that was better than eating any more of this swill. He pushed his plate aside. That stuff wasn't food, it was Darwinism.

The rest of the day passed slowly. Dean's father had been concerned, but he promised to handle it. Knowing his dad would, Dean tried to relax and concentrate on his homework, but ended up wearing out the rest of his batteries for his walkman. As much as he didn't want to talk to his father, he was anxious to find out what was going on.

He was also getting seriously bored, so he was very relieved when Justin showed up for his visit.

"Is that food?" Justin asked eyeing Dean's tray. "Oh, I brought those books for you." Justin put the books on the end of Dean's bed. He didn't want to get to close to the tray. It looked like it was alive.

"They're trying to tell me it is," Dean replied. "Want some? I think it's supposed to be spa..." Dean's words stopped abruptly when he saw that Justin had the beginnings of a black eye. "What happened to you?" he asked, feeling himself grow angry.

Justin shrugged as if was no big deal. "It's just Mike Everleigh and his gang. Mr. Peter's gave a pop quiz in math yesterday. He was mad I wasn't there for him to cheat off. He's officially on academic probation, and if he fails one more test, he can't play sports."

Dean knew that most of his teachers gave the athletes special treatment. His math teacher did not and it was one of the things Dean respected about him most, and his temper grew when jerks like Mike could get away anything simply because he could throw a ball. Dean wished he wasn't laid up and could try out for the football team. It would really give him a good opportunity to lay a pounding on the idiot without getting in trouble. His dad really frowned on him fighting at school. That was rule number 2, right behind attendance.

Dean had always been surprised that his father had cared about whether or not he went to school. His dad didn't care about grades, just as long as he didn't flunk. He said that skipping school was one of the biggest ways of getting the attention of social services. Considering he had missed two weeks of school, and they had showed up, maybe his dad was right.

"You have to stand up to that guy," Dean encouraged.

"It's easy to say that, but it's not just Mike. If he gets banned, we lose the games, and the championship, and then the whole school's mad at me."

Dean had never really thought about it that way. Justin did have a point, and he admitted that. "I just wish there was a way I could get the guy off my back without it coming to that," Justin stated wistfully.

"Tell me about it," Dean mumbled.

Justin looked at him in surprise. "I would have thought things were easy for you."

It was Dean's turn to look dumbfounded. "Why do you say that?" he asked curiously.

"You can have any girl in school, and even the football players are afraid of you."

"I hate school," Dean admitted. "No, I don't get picked on, but things aren't easy."

"How?" Justin asked. He was curious about his new friend. They'd talked quite a bit the other day, but Dean was guarded about how much personal information he released.

"It's just that, you said you can't stand up to Mike without everyone getting mad, right?" Justin nodded. "It's the same way with me, but it's not jerks at school, it's my father and my brother."

_I really hope he's not about to tell me what I think he is, Justin thought._ If Dean admitted to being abused, he didn't have a clue what to do.

"It's just me, my dad, and my little brother. I'd do anything for them. I mean, my dad tells me to get my grades up. I do just that by getting an A+ on my essay. I even won something for it. I asked dad and Sammy to come to the ceremony and they forgot. My dad apologised, but Sammy, he didn't even remember. Was it too much to ask that they come? It would be nice, if once,_** just once**_, they'd do something for me," Dean exploded.

The young man sitting next to Dean's bed wondered if his friend had forgotten that he was in the room.

"Dean, I..." Justin started. How did you respond to that? Should he remind his friend that he had an audience?

"I just wish..." Dean's tirade stopped at Justin's words, and he remembered that he wasn't alone. He knew how his words sounded, and knew he better clear them up before Justin called social services himself. "I don't mean I'm neglected, my dad's the best, it's just that he's busy," Dean explained, and Justin sighed in relief. "My dad works, so I help out at home, and with Sammy. The problem is that Sammy's 13 and he wants to do his own thing. Older brothers aren't cool anymore, unless he and his friends need a ride somewhere. My mom... she di... she... anyway, Dad's a little protective of us, and I tend to say yes more than he does."

Justin could guess where this was going. He felt bad about Dean's mother. He knew how he'd feel if something happened to his. "Your brother's mad because your father's saying no, and he's not used to it. My little sister's the same way. She just turned 12 and thinks she's all grown up." He was surprised to learn this about Dean. He had thought Dean had it easy, he had the looks, he was smart and friendly, and girls fawned all over him. Justin had wished several times that he could have changed places with Dean, now he wasn't so sure. His father had always told him not to judge a book by its cover. "It's just like me being caught between the school and the football players, you're caught between your dad and brother. If you break the rules, your dad gets mad, and if you follow them, your brother does. You can't win no matter what you do."

"Jus, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." Dean replied, he hoped he didn't sound as frantic as he felt. He couldn't believe he had just let all that slip to a total stranger, he didn't reveal things like that.

"Dean, like you told me yesterday, we all need to vent. I don't mind," Justin said sincerely. "I promise, man, I won't say a word to anyone."

"Thanks," Dean replied.

"There is one condition, though," Justin said trying to keep the grin off his face. He wanted to lighten the mood.

Dean froze for a moment. Was there anyone that didn't want something from him? "What?" he said warily.

"Can you get me a date with Brenda?" he finally grinned, as did Dean when he realized Justin was joking with him. Brenda Abrams was the head cheerleader and Mike's girlfriend. Hitting on her was the best way to get yourself beat up.

Dean felt all the tension drain out of him. That's what friends did, right? Wait, did he have a friend? Is that how Sammy did it? He'd have to ask Sammy, if his brother would talk to him. If friends did things for each other, maybe Justin could do something for him.

"Sure, but I get to add a condition as well," Dean added.

"What's that?" Justin asked, a little nervous.

"Finish this slop for me, okay?" he said indicating his food tray. "I don't want another lecture from Nurse Ratched."

Both boys finally gave into laughter, lightening the tension in the room considerably.

------

Justin did keep his word. He didn't tell anyone what Dean had shared, the problem was that the conversation had been overheard. By the last person Dean would have wanted to hear it.

TBC

A/N: Why Sam hasn't mentioned forgetting Dean's award will be addressed in the next chapter. Please remember to read and review, it makes my day.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

This chapter is dedicated to Sylia91. Thanks again to Soar, Julia Aurelia and Sinead-Conlan

Disclaimer: Still Don't Own

Sam sat down heavily on the chair in the hallway just outside Dean's doorway. He hadn't planned to visit today because of what had happened the day before. He hadn't meant to start something with his father. It had just happened and it had been on his mind all day. He hated it when Dean was mad at him and he couldn't concentrate on anything. He had called his father and told him that he'd had a ride home, but he'd asked Mark's mom to drop him off at the hospital instead. He didn't care what his father had to say about it either. He was glad he had spoken to his father first, though, his dad had warned him social services was snooping around.

He'd gotten to Dean's room and was just about to go inside when he'd heard voices. He carefully peeked around the corner and saw a boy about Dean's age that he didn't recognize, sitting next to his brother's bed. Before he could speculate too much on who he was, Sam heard Dean's words about his dad and him forgetting about his award, and how big brothers were only good for driving little brothers around.

_Did Dean really think that?_ That Sam didn't want him around. Nothing could be further from the truth. He was the only one Sam wanted around, his big brother was his whole world. He had forgotten about Dean's award, that was true, and Sam felt bad about it. He wanted to tell Dean that he was sorry, but his father had said that he'd taken care of it and not to bring it up. Suddenly, Sam's mood shifted from distraught to furious, not towards Dean, but towards his dad. His father hadn't mentioned that he was sorry, too. Well he was.

_Calm down, Sam, he instructed himself._ That's how the whole fight had started yesterday. He needed to set things straight and he needed to do it now. He stood up and prepared to march into Dean's room.

"Sam," he heard his name called. He looked up and saw Dean's doctor coming towards him. He felt fear start to work its way into his anger. _Dean was okay, wasn't he? _

"Hi, Dr. Curtis," he greeted. "Is Dean okay?"

"Yes, don't worry. No, what I need is for you to go with Ms. Anderson." The doctor pointed to the official looking woman standing next to the doctor. Sam guessed this was who his father had warned him about.

"Hi, Sam," she greeted in a friendly tone. She wasn't surprised when Sam didn't answer.

"You can use that room," Dr. Curtis pointed out an empty waiting room.

"Thanks. Come along, Sam." Ms. Anderson gestured for Sam to follow her.

"I want to see Dean," he protested.

"This will just take a few minutes," the social worker said, her tone still friendly, but firm.

"Fine," Sam huffed and followed the lady. He was trained in how to handle these situations.

"First of all, Sam, I'm not the enemy," Samantha said trying to sound non-threatening. "I just want to understand."

_I'm not buying this, lady. _"Can we please get this over with?"

Samantha led Sam through an interview that was very much like the one she'd had with Dean. Sam stated that his father didn't like him home alone, and that he got mad when he wasn't allowed to go to the movies. He said stuff he didn't mean, like Dean had done when he'd said that he didn't want to see his father or brother.

Samantha soon realized that she was getting nowhere with either boy. She had reviewed her files and found out that John Winchester had been investigated once before for neglect. A motel manager had become concerned when she hadn't seen the father of the two little boys come back for a week. The investigation had been dropped because it was discovered that the boys' uncle was supposed to show up, but had been in a car accident and couldn't get there. The whole thing sounded suspicious to her. Why hadn't the boys called their father when their uncle hadn't shown up? She had checked the police reports and there were no reported car accidents in the area, and why hadn't the uncle called the father? Someone had dropped the ball on that one, and she was determined to make sure that these boys weren't being mistreated in anyway.

-----

Sam was happy when he got out of there. He just hoped that their father could make this go away, like he had done that other time. He knew their story had been full of holes, but the investigation had been dropped. Dean had told him that Bobby had probably found some dirt on the social worker. Sam wouldn't have been surprised, Bobby could probably find dirt on anyone.

Sam found himself wishing for the elder hunter. He had a way of solving all their problems, and they'd had some good times at Bobby's house. He knew that the senior hunter would have been there, but he was working undercover, trying to bring down a cult of Satan worshippers, and was unreachable. Sam doubted he even knew about the accident.

He reached Dean's room and tentatively knocked on the door.

"Hey, Dean," he said hesitantly, unsure of how he'd be received.

"Hey, Sam," Dean greeted in the same tone.

Sam took that as a good sign and entered the room. "Where's your IV?" Sam asked just for something to say.

"They pulled it this morning. I didn't yank it again," Dean said defensively.

"I'm sorry," Sam instantly apologized. This wasn't starting well.

"You can ask Dr. Curtis or Nurse Ratched," Dean added.

"I said I believe you," Sam shot back. "Look, Dean, I don't want to fight, okay? I'm sorry about yesterday," he added sincerely.

"Apology accepted," Dean said in a forced tone. "What time is dad picking you up?"

That was when Sam knew that his brother was still mad. Not that Sam blamed him, he had said some pretty cruel things. "He doesn't know I'm here."

Dean stared at him in disbelief. "Why?"

"Why what?" Sam asked in confusion.

"Why do you always have to start something? Why do you have to do the exact opposite of everything he says? You don't think he's going to get mad when he finds out you disobeyed him again?"

"Dean, I..." Sam started. That wasn't that what this was about. "I just wanted to see you."

"I asked you not to come," Dean reminded him.

"I had to say I'm sorry. I felt bad about it all night. I didn't mean it."

"Saint Dean doesn't do anything wrong. I'm so sorry I can't be like him. I'm sorry I'm not some mindless robot that can't think for himself," Dean fired at him.

"I didn't mean it," Sam repeated. "I was just mad."

"You said it though, Samm... Sam," he corrected. Sam tried not to flinch. He hated when Dean called him Sammy, but right now, he would give anything to hear it. "And you were mad, at dad. I asked you not to bring me into it. You didn't listen to me. You never do. You or dad. So part of you must be mad at me too."

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"Because if I hadn't pulled my IV, dad wouldn't have ordered you to stay with me yesterday."

"You know that's not true. Dad wouldn't have let me go anyway. He never lets me do anyth..."

"You're doing it again," Dean interrupted him, clearly frustrated. "Dad's not even here."

This was not going the way Sam wanted it too at all. How had they gotten into an argument about their dad anyway? "Dean, I didn't mean to bring up dad. I just want to make it up to you."

"Why?" Dean snapped. "Sorry, my leg's broken, Sam. It's going to be a while before I can play chauffer for you and your little buddies, so there's no point in sucking up is there," he added bitterly.

"I don't just think of you as my chauffer, Dean."

"Yeah right," Dean said sarcastically. "That's why you tell your friend's I'll pick you up, without even asking me. I get why you do it. It's not like I ever have _**plans**_," he sneered

"I'm..."

"Sorry, yeah, I get it, Sam. I'm tired. Maybe you should just go."

"No," Sam said stubbornly.

"Sam," Dean replied, the warning in his tone clear.

"I need to say this, then I'll leave you alone. I'm sorry, Dean. Yeah, I know you're thinking they're just words," he added quickly when Dean looked like he was about to interrupt. "I got my math test back today and I got a 90. Do you know why?"

"Yeah, you're the smart one..."

"Stop it, Dean," Sam snapped back. That wasn't why he was bringing it up. "It was the test _**you**_ helped me study for. My friends like it when you pick us up the best. They love driving in the Impala, and they think you're cool. Mark's brother pretty much has to be ordered by his parents before he agrees to have anything to do with us, and Tom's sister, well she doesn't want to be seen in public with us. They ask me to ask you, and I just tell them yes. Okay, maybe that's wrong, but I like being seen with my big brother. It's not just because you drive me everywhere, or help me with my homework. You're always there, Dean. I guess I just expect it. I heard what you said to that boy who was here earlier. I'm really sorry about your award, Dean. I don't have an excuse for forgetting. I just didn't think it was that big a deal."

"It was," Dean mumbled more to himself.

"You told me it was no big deal and you didn't even know if you wanted to go yourself."

"You still forgot," Dean accused.

"I know, Dean, but I'm not a mind reader. Why weren't you just honest with me and dad that day? Why did you pretend it wasn't a big deal when it meant a lot to you? If you had told me straight out you wanted me there, I would have gone."

"You can say that now," Dean shot back.

That's when Sam realized just how deep the hurt ran. "Tell me what to do to make it up to you, Dean, and I swear, I'll do it."

Dean thought about that. Sam did have a point. He had made it sound like he didn't care about his big night. Sam had shown up here, and Dean really hated fighting with his brother, and he was giving him an opportunity to cut down on the fighting between Sam and his dad. "I don't want you to fight with dad."

Sam wished Dean had asked him to achieve peace in the Middle East. That would be an easier task.

"I know it goes against everything ingrained in you, but I'm asking you to make an honest effort."

"I'll try, Dean," Sam said honestly.

"Thanks, Sammy."

Sam grinned for the first time in days. He knew that they had a long way to go, but at least they had made the first step.

------

John, meanwhile, had his own problems to deal with. He was waiting for social services to call, and it had come in that afternoon. Samantha wanted to schedule an appointment with him. The problem was trying to find a good time. He was working double shifts and on weekends. If they looked closely at his finances, he was screwed. The last time he'd been in this situation, Bobby had dug up a few things the other social worker would prefer people didn't know, and the investigation had been dropped.

He knew that she wouldn't be put off forever, and that she wanted to come to his home. The problem was that with Dean in the hospital, him working all day, and Sam at school and at the hospital with his brother, the place was a disaster area. He just wondered where he was going to find time. He didn't want to ask his boss for a day off, he was already on thin ice, but he knew she wasn't going to take no for an answer forever. He was going to have to make time somehow, because the most important thing of all was riding on this, his boys.

He wouldn't make it without his boys, and he wouldn't want to. The only solution he could come up with was to trust Sam. He'd have to let Sam stay home by himself, and clean the house. He didn't like that situation much either, because he didn't like it when Sam was home alone, but he didn't want to leave Dean by himself either. It was bothering him that Sam was on his own now. He knew that Dean wasn't going to tolerate it for very long.

This whole thing defined the phrase 'recipe for disaster'. John would give his right arm for Bobby to be available right now. Pastor Jim would help, but he was out of the country. He did missionary work overseas. He could ask Joshua for help in a different way, though. He could ask one of his hunter buddies to loan him some money, then some of the pressure would be off, but Winchesters didn't take charity.

_That kind of thinking is going to land the boys in foster care, he reminded himself._ It wouldn't solve all their problems, but it would help a lot. He resolved to call Joshua when he got home that night.

------

10:00pm had never looked so good to John Winchester. He closed the store and was able to head home. He got in and was relieved to find Sam in his room, reading a book.

Sam had called Mark's mother and asked for a ride from the hospital, and he was glad that his father wasn't there when he got home. He had promised Dean he would try to avoid fighting, and if that meant completely avoiding his father, then so be it.

"Sammy," John called to his youngest.

"What?" he called from his room.

"Can you come here?"

Taking a deep breath, Sam stepped out of his room and went to greet his father. "Yeah, dad?"

"We need to talk," he replied. "First, I want to say that I don't ever want a repeat of last night's events. If I give an order, it's for your own good. I'm also sorry for what I said."

Sam bit his tongue about the following orders instruction. He managed to restrain himself from pointing out that he wasn't a soldier. "Me too," he admitted grudgingly. He hoped he sounded sincere because he really wasn't.

"We have a situation. I'm going to trust you, Sam, you'll be here tomorrow by yourself. CPS is nosing around and they're going to want a home inspection, and right now this place is a disgrace. So tomorrow morning, you're going to start cleaning up. I'm only working until 5. Then we'll go get some take out from Taco Bell," he said naming Dean's favourite restaurant. "Then we'll go visit your brother."

"Okay," Sam agreed. It did sound like a good plan.

"Get some rest, kiddo. I want you up at 6:00am tomorrow. This place needs a ton of work."

Later that night, John swallowed his pride and called Joshua. He explained the situation and Joshua was more than happy to help, although he yelled at John for not calling earlier, reminding him that it's what friends did for one another.

------

The next day, John was in a much happier mood. He picked up the wire from Joshua, and deposited it in his account. There was enough there that if he was careful with what he was making, he would be able to make things up to Dean. He decided not to say anything just in case he couldn't pull it off.

He also caught another break. The CPS worker had to leave town, but because the boys were in no immediate danger, and she knew that there was no reason to remove them from their father, she had no choice but to schedule her visit with the Winchesters for next week. John was grateful for the extra time to get things in order.

------

The next week passed in relative peace for the Winchesters. John had apologized for the fight. Dean had said he was okay with it, but John wondered if he was just doing what he always did, saying it was alright just to keep the peace. They did need to have a talk, all three of them, but it was best that it took place outside the hospital, and away from people who might take what they say and call social services. John still hadn't forgiven Dean's nurse for that one.

Everyone was happy when Dean was taken for x-rays and they showed that his leg was healing nicely, and they decided to cast it.

He stayed in the hospital for a couple of extra days, so he could get used to the crutches. It was hard at first, because the cast was big and bulky. John had to laugh over the fact that Dean had seemed to master the task after Dr. Curtis told him, if it was too tough, he could use a wheelchair.

-----

This was it, the day was finally here. After 3 weeks and 3 days, Dean was finally getting his release papers. He was just waiting for his father to sign them and then he could leave.

"Where's dad?" he asked his brother.

"He'll be here soon, Dean," Sam said trying to keep his patience. Dean had asked that at least 6 times in the last 10 minutes. "Are you sure you don't want to stay here?" Sam teased.

"No," Dean said without hesitation. If he was honest with himself, his stay hadn't been all bad. It was nice to control the remote and pretty much do what he wanted during the day. He had read some good books he wouldn't have looked twice at. He had just started Return of the King. He had hoped that he could finish it before he left the hospital. He wanted to return it to Justin.

That had been the best part. Justin had shown up every day to visit, and Dean had found himself looking forward to his daily appearance. It gave Dean a chance to vent. He had even thought of a way to help Justin with his problem.

His homework was all caught up with, and he actually felt confident, for a change, that he would have no problem when he returned to school.

"Hey, buddy, ready to get out of here?"

"I was ready weeks ago," Dean said sitting up. He grabbed his crutches. The next 8 weeks were going to be a bitch. The cast ran from the top of his leg to his ankle. It was big, and bulky and highly uncomfortable, but at least it was better than traction. He almost died with happiness when he was allowed to use the bathroom.

After a brief argument about riding out in a wheelchair, which ended with a death glare from John, Dean soon found himself standing outside. He took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air.

"Sorry that I couldn't pick you up in the Impala," John apologized. "It's still being repaired, but don't worry, it will be as good as new."

"That's okay," Dean said. "I'm glad you're able to fix her up."

"Don't worry about that okay?"

"Sure, dad. Thanks for everything, Nurse Ratched," Dean said as he balanced himself on his crutches.

"Take care, Randle," she replied heading back in the hospital.

Dean opened the door to the passenger seat and stopped dead. How the hell was he going to get in the car? He couldn't bend his leg.

"You're going to have to get in the back," John said. Dean hated sitting in the back, but there was no other choice. John opened the door and helped Dean sit on the seat. Dean put his arms behind him and pulled himself back, so that he was stretched out sideways. Sam clambered into the passenger seat.

"Ready?" John asked as he got in the driver's side and put the key in the ignition.

Dean looked to his father and brother. They hadn't spent a lot of time together in his room, so he had no idea if Sam was keeping his promise or not. Right at this point, he really didn't care. He just wanted to get out of here.

"Ready," he said to his father with a big grin, as John pulled away from the curb and they headed home.

TBC

Please make my muse happy by reading and reviewing.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Still don't own.

A/N: To Soar, JuliaAurelia and Sinead-Conlan. I don't know what I would do without you guys.

Earlier that Day

Sam awoke early and yawned and stretched. He couldn't believe how tired he still was. He had been up late, trying to finish homework and get the house spotless. It couldn't be messy, because the lady from social services was coming by tomorrow evening, but more importantly, Dean was coming home and Sam wanted everything to be perfect when Dean got there. His brother would have done no less for him.

He was even willing to bite his tongue when dealing with their father. He had been keeping his promise to his brother through sheer avoidance. He and his dad rarely spent time in the same room. Sam didn't care what he had to do today. _**Nothing **_was going to ruin Dean's homecoming.

"Hey, Sammy, you up?" he heard his father call him.

"Yeah, dad," he said pushing the covers aside and grabbing his robe. He stepped into the kitchen, taking a deep breath at the aroma of pancakes cooking on the stove. "What time are we picking Dean up?"

John grinned and reached out and ruffled his son's hair. "Dr. Curtis said we can pick him up around noon." He was looking forward to his eldest being home as well.

"You got the stuff for the tacos, right?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, Sammy," John confirmed. Tacos were currently Dean's favourite food.

"What about the pie? We have to have pie."

"Sam, don't worry. I got it, okay? Apple for you and Dean, and strawberry rhubarb for me, plus vanilla ice cream. Can't have pie without ice cream, right?'

"Thanks, dad," Sam said sincerely as he accepted his pancakes from his father and sat down at the table, prepared to drown them in syrup.

"Sammy," John said softly. "I just want you to know how proud of you I have been this week. I appreciate the effort that you put into getting the house tidied up. It looks great."

"Thanks, dad," Sam said sincerely.

It had been tough. Sam would get up in the morning, go to school, come home, do housework and try to get his homework done, plus find time to go visit his brother. Sam had found his school work suffering. He had gotten his first C ever on a test.

Math was always his weakest subject and he usually asked Dean to help him study. The problem was that things were still a little strained between him and his older brother, and Sam had been reluctant to ask him. Then with his extra chores at home, he didn't have the time to put into it like he usually did.

He'd been really nervous to show his test to his father, but his dad had been surprisingly understanding when Sam explained why he had done so poorly.

Right now, though, he didn't care about any of that, he just wanted his brother home.

-----

The trip to the hospital was uneventful, as was Dean's discharge. The first test of not starting something with his dad came about five minutes after they returned home. The path from the driveway to the house was icy, as were the steps. Dean awkwardly got out of the car and took about three steps before his crutch slipped. If John hadn't been hovering over him, Dean probably would have face planted.

"Dean, are you alright?" John inquired.

"Yeah, fine," Dean ground out, trying to stop himself from grunting in pain. He didn't even want to think about what would have happened if he had fallen.

"Dad, I asked you to..." Sam stopped suddenly when he glanced at Dean. His brother's face had that pinched look, and Sam didn't know if it was because Dean was in pain, or he thought Sam was about to yell at their father, or maybe both. "Um, can I have the keys to the closet and I'll go get some salt." He had asked his father several times for the keys. With the Impala out of commission, John had locked all their weapons, including the rock salt, in the back closet.

"Um, sure Sammy, here," John replied as he pulled his keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Sam, who caught them in the air. "Do you want to wait until Sam gets the salt down, or do you think you can make it?" John addressed Dean tensely, as he handed him the crutch that he had dropped. Dean hadn't been home for five minutes and he and Sam had already almost gotten into a fight. It was his fault, he had forgotten to leave Sam the keys.

"I'm fine," Dean said through gritted teeth. He had totally misread his father's tone, and berated himself for being so clumsy. He accepted the crutch and placed them only a couple of inches in front of him, and then he took a tentative hop. He was determined not be such a screw up. He didn't want to give his father and brother any excuse to start something.

Fortunately, they made it to the front door without further incident.

Dean wasn't sure what to expect when he stepped through the front door. He didn't really think the place would be messy. His father wouldn't stand for it, plus social services were snooping around. It was part of the reason John had insisted that the house always be kept in some semblance of order.

What he wasn't expecting was for the place to be spotless. There wasn't anything out of place, or a book or newspaper lying around. The dishes were done, the floor swept and everything was dusted.

Plus, the place was warm, indicating that heat had to be up. How the hell could they afford that? He hoped his father wasn't doing it for him, he wasn't an invalid.

"Do you want to go lay down?" John asked.

Dean looked at his father like he was crazy. "I just spent the last 3 weeks in bed. It's the last thing I want to do."

"I just don't want you to overdo it, Dean."

"I'm fine," Dean snapped. "I just..." Dean stopped because he didn't know what he wanted. "Want to watch TV," he finished. He didn't really. Their set got crappy reception and they only had 3 channels. There was nothing on.

"Sure kiddo," John agreed. He knew something was bugging Dean. His eyes were a dead give away, and ever since they had walked into the house, John had seen them harden, as if he was trying to convince himself of something. He knew it was no use, Dean would just deny anything was wrong.

He watched as Dean hobbled into the living room, settled himself on the couch and turned the TV on. Knowing there was nothing he could do right now, John went to the kitchen and started to get supper ready.

-------

Dean's attention wasn't focused on the TV. As he had suspected, there was nothing on. He just needed something, anything, to distract him from his thoughts and the clean living room wasn't helping.

Keeping the house clean was usually his responsibility, and he tried. He wasn't perfect, he just did enough to keep his father happy. Sam offered to help, but Dean usually told him to focus on his homework. He knew how important grades were to his brother.

It seemed that his dad and brother were able to keep it up without him, and do a much better job. Needing to do something, Dean grabbed his crutches, situated them under his arms, and hopped toward his bedroom. His brother had put his bag there when they had entered the house and he wanted to get something out of it.

He heard his brother enter the house, and saw him go into the kitchen. He saw Sam's hand grab some of the cheese his father was shredding, heard his father say something and Sam started laughing.

Dean felt like he should be grateful that Sam and his dad weren't fighting, but he had never expected them to be getting along. Well, lately he seemed to be the subject of his brother's and dad's fights. Was he the cause of them as well? Did they just need him out of the way?

"Hey, Dean," Sam called to his brother. "Want to play some cards? I've been working on my poker game?"

_He had?_ Sammy hated poker, he hated the fact that his father hustled money, and he really hated the fact that John was teaching them to do it as well. When Dean had come home from the pool hall with a black eye, the fight between his dad and brother had been nastier than the one he'd had with the guy he'd just hustled.

"No," Dean grumbled. "I just want..." Dean stopped again. _What the hell's wrong with you? _That was the second time he had started to say that. He honestly didn't know what he wanted. "I am tired," he lied. "I'm gonna just go lay down or something."

Sam and John watched Dean slink off down the hall toward his bedroom. Sam got up to go follow him, but he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Leave him be," John instructed.

"Why?" Sam answered back. "Something's bugging him, dad. I just want to make sure he's alright."

"He'll be fine, Sammy. He just needs to adjust being back home."

"That's bull and you know it," Sam couldn't help himself.

"Sam," John said with a hint of warning.

"Maybe instead of letting him brood, why don't you call Dean on his bull?"

"Do you really want to pick a fight, today of all days?"

_Hell, yes._ "I guess not," Sam agreed reluctantly. "It's just that..."

"What?" John snapped angrily. "I'm the father here, Samuel, not you. Now go do homework or something and leave your brother alone."

"Yes, sir," Sam said coming to attention and saluting his father. He knew he had gone a little too far when he noticed that the vein in John's forehead had started pulsing.

-------

Dean lay on his bed. He really didn't want to be lying down, but he'd heard his father and brother start in on each other. Once again, over him. He hadn't been home for an hour yet and he'd already screwed things up. He really needed to stop thinking about this. He grabbed his bag and pulled out the latest book Justin had given him. He'd been a little sceptical when he saw the cover, but his friend had assured him that it was a great read. Not having anything better to do, he got up, grabbed the pillow off Sam's bed and propped himself up, opened the cover and began to read.

He must have lost track of time because the next thing he knew, he heard the door to their room open. Dean quickly hid the copy of The Odyssey under his pillow and grabbed the car magazine that had been on his bedside table. He couldn't let Sam catching him reading Homer. He'd never hear the end of it.

"Supper's ready," Sam said eagerly. He and his dad had one more surprise in store for Dean's homecoming.

Dean was tempted to say that he wasn't hungry to avoid any awkward moments, but it wasn't true. The smell of ground beef and spices was coming down the hallway and making his stomach rumble.

"Coming," Dean replied, throwing his magazine on the bed and grabbing his crutches from where they were propped up against the wall.

"Dad said we could eat in the living room. He thought you might be more comfortable."

"Okay," Dean said as he followed his brother out the door. They were never allowed to eat in the living room when their dad was home.

Dean was very surprised upon entering the room. He saw that his father had bought all the fixings for do it yourself tacos, and was that a VCR that was attached to the TV? Where the hell had the money for that come from?

"It was Sammy's idea," John said affectionately. "Although the movie choice was all mine. Have a seat."

Dean sat on the couch, helped himself to a taco shell, and started loading on the toppings. "What are we watching?" he asked curiously.

John grinned and pressed play. His grin was infectious when the opening credits for One Flew Over the Cuckoo's nest rolled across the screen. "Thanks, dad," Dean said sincerely as he polished off his taco in 2 huge bites and reached for another one.

"Just save us some," John teased as he settled in next to his boys to watch the movie. It had been way too long. He had missed this.

--------

The brief moment of normalcy was over all too soon for anyone's liking. There was serious business to take care of.

"Boys, we have the visit from social services tomorrow. I need you both home from school on time and on your best behaviour. With any luck, this will be over tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," the boys said in unison, and Sam bit his tongue to keep from blurting out that if they were late, it would be their dad's fault since he picked them up anyway.

"Sam, I want you to give me a hand with the dishes," John said.

"I can help," Dean offered.

"That's okay, Dean. We don't need your help," John replied unthinkingly. He and Sam left the room before they saw the hurt expression that crossed Dean's face.

-----

_**KNOCK KNOCK**_

"Who's that?" John asked Sam as he filled the sink with hot soapy water.

"I don't know," Sam said with a shrug of his shoulder.

"You didn't invite friends over, did you?" John questioned.

"No!" Sam said a bit insulted. He wouldn't do that with Dean just getting out of the hospital. "Maybe Dean invited Justin over."

"He wouldn't do that without asking me."

"I wouldn't either. I don't even do that when it's just me and Dean."

"Sam..."

_**KNOCK KNOCK **_

"Never mind," John said tiredly. He put down the dishrag and went to go answer the door.

"Go sit down, Dean," John instructed his eldest when he found him half way to the door.

"I got it," Dean insisted. He was fine. Why was everyone treating him like an invalid? His doctor had even said that his leg was healing nicely and that there was no reason he couldn't return to school tomorrow. Dean decided to ignore his father and he continued toward the door.

"I said go sit," John ordered, causing Dean to halt in his tracks.

"I'm fine," Dean shot back.

"Go sit, it's an order," John fired out before he could stop himself. Dean reacted instantly, and turned back toward the living room. There had been no customary "yes sir", which indicated that Dean was mad. He could feel a headache building behind his eyes. Why did he seem to screw everything up lately with both his sons?

John pulled the door open and his headache skyrocketed into migraine territory when he saw the social worker standing on his front doorstep.

------

Samantha Anderson pulled into driveway of the small, run down house. Her visit wasn't scheduled until tomorrow, but she had gotten back into town early and she preferred surprise visits anyway, it gave her more of a feel for how things really were. Exiting her Ford Taurus, she walked up the pathway and knocked on the door.

"Good evening, Mr. Winchester," she greeted in a friendly tone, and held out her hand.

"Um, Ms. Anderson?" John said raising his voice slightly at the end, making his statement a question. "Did I get the dates mixed up?"

"No, I was in the neighbourhood and decided that it would be a good time to get this over with."

"Um, come in," John replied as he stepped aside. "Can I take your coat?"

"Thank you," she said as she shed the heavy winter garment.

"Who is it, dad?" Dean asked hobbling to the front door.

"Hello, Dean," Samantha greeted. "It's good to see you got out of the hospital."

Dean didn't react, he just looked toward his father, and Samantha could tell they were having a silent conversation with their eyes. She wished that she had the ability to read it.

"Let's take a seat, there are some questions I'd like to ask you, Mr. Winchester," Samantha proposed.

John led her to the living room, since it was more comfortable for Dean to stretch his leg out there. It was a standard interview about the boys and school, and their friends and responsibilities. She asked about John's work history and he spun a story about businesses closing, and about starting his own business and the funding falling through. He had Joshua and Caleb's numbers that Samantha could call and verify his story.

"I'd like a tour of the place," Samantha requested looking around.

"Follow me," John replied leading the way, with Dean at his heels, trying to keep up.

Samantha did a thorough inspection of the house. John was sweating bullets. The arsenal of weapons was locked in a closet in the back and so far, Samantha had looked in every closet and cupboard. If she saw it, he'd lose his boys so fast his head would spin.

Dean knew what his dad was worried about. He caught Sam's eye and Sam gave a brief nod, indicating that he understood.

"Ms. Anderson," Sam replied tugging gently on her arm. "You absolutely have to taste dad's apple pie. It's homemade and the best thing ever," he said enthusiastically.

Dean limped up to his brother and the social worker. "Sam's right. Dad's the best cook, and his apple pie should win awards."

"I appreciate the offer, boys, but I don't think..."

"Trust me," Dean said smoothly. "This is a once in a life time opportunity." He gently, but firmly nudged her toward the kitchen.

"You have to try some," Sam said and unleashed his secret weapon, his puppy dog eyes. They never failed.

"Alright, if you insist," Samantha said reluctantly. She could smell the cinnamon and apples coming from the kitchen and it did smell good.

"We do," Sam said and led her in to the kitchen, Dean following closely at Sam's heels.

John had no idea what his boys were up to. From the kitchen, the forbidden closest would be on full display. John had to hand it to his boys the way the next events unfolded. They both deserved an academy award. The kitchen was small, and Sam cut a piece of the store bought apple pie and started toward Samantha. In a carefully calculated move, Sam made it appear as if he accidentally tripped over Dean's crutch. The pie landed with a splat on the lap of the social worker.

"Good going, Sammy," Dean berated his brother, in a tone that sounded real.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Sam said apologetically. "It was an accident. I didn't mean..."

"It's okay," Samantha said stiffly. She really hoped that the stains would come out. This was a brand new outfit. "Could you just show me to the bathroom?"

"Sure," Dean replied. "Follow me. Sammy, can you clean up?"

"Sure. Please, Ms. Anderson, I'm so sorry," Sam continued to apologise

"Accidents happen." Samantha acknowledged. "The bathroom please."

The bathroom was at the back of the house, and when the door shut, John reacted instantly. He opened the closet and stuffed the weapons duffle into a closet that Samantha had already checked. 15 minutes later, when Samantha exited the bathroom, Dean was seated on the couch with a book and Sam and John were in the kitchen finishing the dishes.

Samantha completed her tour of the house, said she would be in touch, and left.

"Did you see the look on her face?" Sam exploded with laughter when the car pulled away.

Dean wasn't far behind. "I know. She looked like she was going to shi..."

"Dean!" John cut him off.

"Sorry sir."

John gave in and joined his sons in their laughter. It felt so good after the weeks of tension. His boys made a great team, and heaven help anyone that tried to come between them.

--------

Dean was a little nervous about returning to school, and it didn't help that his father got out of the car to accompany him in.

"We need to go see your principal," John explained.

"About what?" Dean asked warily. He couldn't have done anything to get in trouble. He hadn't even been there for almost a month, and he was actually caught up in all his work and ahead in some subjects.

"He wants to review your work. Determine..." John trailed off.

"What? I don't need some tutor," Dean said guessing at what his father was about to say.

"I know you don't," John confirmed. "Your principal will see that."

Dean scowled but said nothing.

"Dean," John said in a warning tone. "I know it wasn't your fault, okay?"

The meeting with the principal was surprisingly short. She reviewed the assignments that he Dean had done while hospitalized, and agreed with John that he shouldn't have any problem going back to his regular classes. John took a certain amount of pleasure in the smirk he gave the woman. It clearly said "I told you so." The principal also gave Dean a key to the faculty elevator for his classes that were on the second floor, effectively guaranteeing that his stubborn son would take the stairs.

"I'll see you after school," John said as he walked out the building.

"Yeah fine," Dean mumbled as he made his way down the hall toward his locker without even saying goodbye.

-------

The entire day at work, John only thought about one thing. What the hell was bugging his eldest son? With the exception of a few moments, Dean had been in a funk since he'd gotten home the day before. Part of him wanted to chalk it up to Dean being nervous about going back to school, so he wouldn't have to deal with it. The rational part of him knew that Sam was right. He needed to call Dean on his bull. The problem was that he had no idea how.

Sam never hesitated to make his opinion known. If he had a problem, he announced it loud and clear. The problem was that Dean internalized everything. John could tell something was wrong with Dean just by looking into his eyes, they just didn't reveal the specific issue. Maybe he would ask Sam. The kid could read his older brother like a book.

When he got home that night, he cornered Sam, but Sam was as clueless as John.

John tried to lighten Dean's load. He and Sam took care of the housework, and John told Dean to just concentrate on his schoolwork. He even told his eldest he'd still look out for Sam.

Over the next few days, Dean seemed to get worse. He would get home from school and go directly to his room, coming out only for dinner, or to use the bathroom. Then Dean had brought home a math test that he had gotten an F on. He didn't think Dean had ever failed a math test in his life.

John confronted his son, but Dean just insisted that he had screwed up, insisted his father punish him, and send him to his room. John was at a loss as to what to do, so he did what Dean had asked for.

Nothing John said or did would get through to him, and it seemed that the more he tried, the deeper Dean withdrew into himself, and John was terrified of losing his son again. Dean had done this after his mom had died. John couldn't let it happen again. He was at his wit's end as to how to deal with it though.

The boys were in bed asleep and John was sitting at the kitchen table reading his journal. He was going over the notes he had made when Mary had died, to see if there was something there that he could use to get through to Dean.

_**RING RING**_

Sighing, John pushed the journal away and went to go get the phone.

"Hello," he greeted the caller.

_"Hey, John, it's Joshua. I'm just calling to see how the boys are doing."_

"Sam's okay. He and I have been getting along pretty good lately," John replied truthfully.

_"And Dean?"_

"His leg's healing nicely."

_"What's wrong?" Joshua asked in concern. He easily read John's tone. _

"It's just..." John said wearily. "Ever since he got home from the hospital," John trailed off. "I don't know what's wrong with him. He's been standoffish and moody. Then today he brings a math test with an F. An F, Joshua."

_"Sounds like someone's looking for attention," Joshua guessed._

"What are you talking about?" John asked in confusion.

_"It sounds like Dean's trying to get your attention. If I had to guess, I'd say he deliberately failed that math test."_

"You think?" John replied.

_"Yeah. Think about it, John. You've been burning the candle at both ends and haven't had much time to spend with either boy. I'm not saying that's your fault. I know you've been trying to make ends meet. Dean's so used to watching out for Sam though, and right now, he's laid up. You're doing his job."_

"But you would think he would be grateful for the break. He's actually had a chance to be a teenager since the accident. He even made himself a friend."

_"Dean's not a typical teenager, John. You know that. Remember when he was four and you brought him to me?" Joshua asked._

"Yeah," John replied. He'd taken off from Lawrence and had gone to Joshua, who was a doctor, to help him with his withdrawn son.

_"Do you remember what you said to me?" Joshua reminded his friend. _

------

_**1983. **_

"Hello, Mr. Winchester, Dean will be out in a minute," Alicia Horton, the receptionist said as she greeted the young man who had just walked into her office.

"Hi, Alicia. Any way I can pick Dean up a little early?"

"I think Dr. Barrister needs to speak to you," she said. "Let me buzz him and see what he says."

"Can it wait until next week? I really need to get going," John requested. He really didn't have any place he needed to be, it was just that this place made him feel highly uncomfortable.

"Have a seat. Just let me speak to the doctor."

John held his tongue and took a seat in one of the hard, plastic chairs that lined the wall of the office of Dr. Robert Barrister, child psychiatrist.

It had been just over 4 months since Mary had been killed. 4 months, four days, 18 hours, and 15 minutes since John's life had been destroyed.

Things were rough after the fire. They couldn't go back home, so John was staying with his good friends, Kathy and Mike Guenther, or he was trying to anyway. He appreciated the fact that they had taken him in, but they were driving him crazy.

There were lectures about his drinking, and how he needed to get back to work, to start living his life again. Worst of all though, were the lectures telling him that he was destroying his eldest child.

Dean hadn't coped well since his mother's death. He hadn't spoken since that night, hadn't said a single word, except when he woke up screaming from horrific nightmares, or when you took Sam away from him.

His baby brother was the only person he would interact with. Sammy couldn't move without Dean showing up behind him. Kathy and Mike said it wasn't healthy. John tried listening to them, and he let Kathy take Sam out for the afternoon without Dean.

Dean pitched a fit as he watched Kathy walk away. He screamed, cried, and tried to run after his brother, like he was afraid that Kathy would hurt Sammy, or wouldn't bring him back. It was after that disastrous day that they told him that Dean needed help, professional help.

John wanted to tell them where to put their advice, his son was fine, he just needed time, but when they threatened him with social services, John reluctantly agreed.

The problem was that it didn't seem to be helping. In fact, Dean seemed to be getting worse. Dr. Barrister told John that he wasn't allowed to bring Sam when he dropped Dean off, or picked him up. John disagreed, but then he wasn't the expert.

The first few sessions were a repeat of Kathy trying to take Sam out by himself. Dean didn't scream anymore when John dropped him off, but he seemed even more withdrawn, and he was anything but cooperative with his therapist.

"Mr. Winchester," a voice cut through his thoughts.

John looked up and saw Dr. Barrister coming out of his office. He could see Dean sitting at a table, crayons and papers were strewn all around him. Since he wasn't talking, his doctor was trying to get him to draw, but Dean didn't like that either, and had no problem in making his feelings known. It was killing the young father. Dean had been so full of life, always laughing and smiling, full of endless energy. He would give anything to get his boy back.

"Come here, kiddo," John said ignoring the doctor. It saddened him when Dean ran to his side, an expectant look on face, and stopped dead when he realized that his father didn't have Sammy. He looked behind his dad, looking for his brother, and when he didn't see him, John saw that Dean was about to lose it. Before Dean could start, John picked him up and squeezed him.

"Sammy's with Mike. He's fine, Dean, I promise. He's waiting for you to come home. He misses you."

Dean started squirming, indicating that he wanted down. John felt Dean start to tug on his sleeve, pulling him toward the door.

Dr. Barrister frowned. "Mr. Winchester, we need to talk."

"Can it wait until next week?" John said hating the pleading tone in his voice.

"No," the doctor insisted. "Alice will watch Dean. I need to speak to you privately."

"But..." John wanted to protest.

"Mr. Winchester, this is about your son."

"Fine," John agreed reluctantly. He knelt down so that he was at eye level with his son. "Dean, I need you to be a big boy for daddy, okay?" He had to steel himself when Dean's eyes spilled over. He only gave the big boy speech when he had to leave. "I'm coming back, son. I promise. When I do, maybe we'll go to McDonalds. You like their happy meals."

Dean didn't want his daddy to go away, but he knew he had to let him. It was the quickest way to get back to Sammy.

-----

John followed Dr. Barrister into the office and took a seat. The office was brightly decorated, with pictures of Disney characters, and other things kids would like. There were also lots of books and toys. Despite the bright and cheery nature of his surroundings though, John felt an uneasy sense of foreboding. He had a feeling that he wasn't going to like what Dr. Barrister had to say.

"Mr. Winchester, as I'm sure you've noticed, Dean is extremely withdrawn. He isn't making the progress that I'd hoped for."

"It's only been a couple of months," John pointed out. "You said yourself that it's going to take time."

"Yes, but I think we need to increase his sessions. He seems to be going backwards. I'm afraid we could lose him."

"He's already here 3 times a week."

"I think he needs intensive, one on one therapy on a daily basis."

"You want me to bring him every day?"

"I think you're missing the point. I think Dean needs to be admitted to a private hospital..."

_**"NO!" **_John thundered, causing the doctor to flinch. "My baby boy needs his family."

"He needs to find his way back on his own terms, and live for himself. It could be damaging to his long term psyche to make him so responsible for his brother."

"Sam's the only thing he responds to. I don't understand how taking that away is going help him."

"You're not listening," Dr. Barrister said to John as if he was speaking to a small child. "He needs to start..."

"I am listening. The answer's no!" John said finally and rose to leave.

"Please Mr. Winchester, reconsider..."

"Now who's not listening?" John said in the same patronizing tone. "I will continue to bring him here, but I _**will not **_put him in some psych ward, where they can drug him into submission."

John stormed out of the office before the doctor could say another word.

------

The single father was fuming as he drove back toward the Guenther's, but he tried to appear normal, since Dean was in his booster seat behind him. John didn't want him to pick up on his anger, so he kept up a cheerful dialog about how they would go to the movies that weekend, but inside, he was trying to figure out how to kill Dean's therapist and get away with it.

When they returned to the Guenther's, John assisted Dean out of the car, pulled out his keys and he and Dean entered the home. Dean immediately ran to Sammy's room. John just sighed. This was going to be tough.

"Hi, John," Kathy greeted him. "How did Dean's appointment go?" she asked. "That good, huh?" she added when she saw the look on John's face.

"This whole thing is a waste..." John said angrily.

"You have to give this time, John," Kathy interrupted before John could go off on a tirade. "You can't expect progress..."

It was John's turn to interrupt. "Overnight? Apparently, the doctor thinks so. Did you know that the quack had the nerve to suggest that I put Dean in the hospital? I can't... if I do that... Mary..." John trailed off.

Kathy felt her heart go out to the small family. In many ways, John was as lost as Dean. "I know you don't want to hear this, John..."

"Not you too," John said with a hint of betrayal. "I don't need to see some damn shrink. My baby needs me. _**Me, **_Kathy, not some doctor, and definitely not a hospital. I'd never get him back and you know it. What he needs, what we all need, is our own space. I appreciate what you and Mike have done for me, but I think it's time for us to get our own place."

Kathy did not think that was a good idea. John was barely functioning. He was not in any shape to be dealing with two small, grieving sons, one of whom was deeply traumatized.

"You don't have to leave, John," Kathy said trying to reason with him, but she knew it was a losing battle. John was as stubborn as the day is long.

"I do," he insisted. "I'm going to take the boys out for dinner, so you don't have to set a place for us."

"Okay," Kathy said knowing it would do no good to argue.

-----

The next week was one disaster after another. When John tried to force Dean to speak in a restaurant, his son had pitched a fit. Another time, when John tried to take Dean to a ball game, his son had cried for Sammy the entire time.

The harder he tried, the more Dean withdrew. Dr. Barrister threatened to go to the courts if John didn't agree to admit Dean to a hospital. That's when John lost his temper, called the guy a quack, and hauled off and decked him.

He took off that night. Missouri had given him the name of Pastor Jim Murphy, with whom he could take shelter. Jim then referred him to Joshua to help with Dean.

Joshua used a different approach. He encouraged John to bring Sam to Dean's therapy sessions. He encouraged Dean to leave his brother and father's side for longer and longer periods, proving to the young boy that his brother would be safe if Dean let him out of his sight. It was slow going, but Dean was making progress.

3 months after they had arrived in Blue Earth, when John put his son to bed, Dean pulled him into a hug and whispered, "I love you, daddy."

It was then that John realized that Dean had never stopped talking. John had just stopped listening.

------

_**Present**_

"I said that Dean never stopped talking, I just stopped listening."

"Are you listening now, John?"

"I guess not," John admitted. "Thanks Joshua."

"You're welcome. Now go talk to that boy of yours."

John hung up the phone and went down the hall to his boys' room. Back then, Dean had needed to make sure his family was safe. It had always been Dean's job to look after Sam, and ever since the accident, John had been taking that away from him. The three of them would have a long talk tomorrow. He smiled at his sleeping sons. They looked so peaceful. John went down the hall to his own room and for the first time in a long time, he slept peacefully as well.

TBC

Please read and review. Each one makes my day.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Still don't own them.

I would like to thank Sylia91, once again for bidding on me, and for her incredible patience while I finished this story.

Thanks goes to Soar for putting up with my terrible grammer and spelling and for the awesome beta work.

Also thanks to Julia Aurelia and Sinead-Conlan for all their feedback and encouragement.

--------------

Today was the first time in weeks that there was a break in the freezing cold weather. The sun was shining, and the forecast called for it to start getting warmer.

John Winchester couldn't help but think that this was a good omen for once. He had been up early to work on his plan of attack. He was tackling the problem he had with his boys the way he would approach a hunt. Joshua's theory that Dean needed to feel useful was a good one.

It was something John still felt guilty about. He had never meant to make Dean responsible for looking after him and Sam, but his son had done it without being asked. When things were tough after the fire, and then when John had needed help with Sam so he could pursue hunting, it had been so easy to just let Dean step into the role.

The last few weeks with Dean incapacitated had been a real eye opener for John. It wasn't just looking after Sam or the house, there was so much more John hadn't realized that Dean had done for them, from finding a clinic for dental appointments, to helping with homework, to knowing Sam's friends and keeping their finances under control.

After Dean had been released from the hospital, John had only been trying to ease some of the pressure on Dean's shoulders, because he'd seen the toll it had been taking, especially on Dean's schoolwork.

These past few weeks had also given him a lot of insight into his youngest son as well. Sam was capable of a lot more than John gave him credit for. He had looked after the house, and most of Dean's responsiblities this past week. He had walked to and from school by himself several times, and had been trying not to argue with him, and John was attempting to do the same.

The big problem John was contemplating, was how to find a balance. How much responsibility should he give Dean so that it didn't interfere with his school work, yet made him feel useful without stepping too much on Sam's newfound independence?

John still didn't like Sam walking to school on his own. He knew the dangers, both known and unknown, but Sam had proven that he could be trusted to go right to school and then home. His youngest son was growing up and John wasn't sure he liked that one bit.

He looked up at the clock and knew that he needed to get breakfast on and wake up his son for school, but he was no further ahead in his plan about how to make both sons happy. He hoped that it was a slow day at work so he could think about this some more. He stood, stretched, called his sons and opened the fridge and tried to decide what to make for breakfast. He decided that he would make some pancakes. They had been eating Dean's favourite foods the last few days, and pancakes were Sam's favourite. He started mixing the batter and opened the cupboard. He grinned when he found a large bag of chocolate chips. He could make both his sons happy this morning. He hoped that was another sign.

---------

Things got even better for John that day. Before he and the boys left, the phone rang, and it was one of the garages in town. They had an opening and wondered if he could come in for an interview. He hated to let his boss at the convenience store down, as he had bailed him out of a really tough spot, but the job at the garage paid more than his 2 jobs did together. He didn't quit just yet though, he had to get the job at the garage first. If he did, he decided to just be honest with his boss. It was the only thing he could do.

Even better, Samantha Anderson from social services called and told John that there would be no formal investigation at this time, and thanked him for his cooperation. He breathed a sigh of relief. They had dodged a big bullet there.

He hadn't fully come up with a game plan as to how to deal with his sons, but he decided that the best thing to do would be to include them in any decision he made. After all, if John had learned anything these last three weeks, it was just how capable his boys were.

He went to his interview during his lunch break and walked out of there with the job. He went to his boss, who was upset at the short notice, but could understand why John was quitting and wished him the best.

He picked the boys up at school, and surprised them when he drove to a local pizza parlour, instead of just dropping them off at home and going to his night job. He filled them in on all the good things that had been happening that day.

When they got home, Dean tried to disappear into his room, but John stopped him and told him to go into the living room, Sam too. They all needed to talk.

------

"What do you think dad's up to?" Sam asked his brother. Their father had been in such a good mood that day it was scaring him.

"I'm not sure," Dean admitted. The trip for pizza had been so unexpected, as they often didn't have the money for take out.

"Hey boys, up for some dessert?" John asked bringing in a big strawberry-rhubarb pie. His little darlings had eaten all of his on Dean's homecoming and he hadn't even gotten one slice. He wondered if he should have made Dean aware that he was actually consuming a vegetable.

"Always," Dean admitted and accepted a slice from his father.

"Thanks," Sam replied as he accepted his.

"Boys, we need to talk," John said after they all had finished their dessert. He had decided that there was no beating around the bush.

"About what?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"Things have to change," John replied.

"What things?" Sam asked in the same suspicious tone as his brother.

"Dean, ever since you got out of the hospital, something has been going on with you."

"I'm fine," came the expected answer.

"Then why do you disappear as soon as you get home, and only come out for supper?"

Dean shrugged as if it was no big deal. "It's more comfortable for my leg," he covered.

"Is it hurting?" John asked with concern. Maybe he and Joshua had been totally wrong.

"It's fine," Dean insisted. "I just..."

"Knock it off," Sam added. "Are you still mad at me?"

"'Course not, Sammy," Dean said softly. "I just..." He stopped. He didn't want to admit what he was thinking.

"You're thinking that we don't need you," John supplied, taking pity on his son.

"No," Dean denied instantly. "I'm not.... My leg hurts, I think..."

"Dean, freeze," John ordered when Dean grabbed for his crutches. "Something's going on with you. I just want to know what it is."

"Nothing," Dean denied everything again.

"Dean," Sam spoke up. "You won't talk to me or dad, and go straight to our room as soon as you get home from school. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that something's bugging you."

"So you're the genius now," Dean snapped. "I'm surprised you noticed since you're so busy."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that like it sounded," Sam instantly apologized.

"Dean..." John prompted.

"You and Sam don't need me," Dean replied sounding lost. "I screwed up everything."

"How?" John asked hoping to keep Dean talking.

"The house is spotless, the sink's fixed, it's even warm in here, something I could never do. Sam doesn't need me anymore, he has his friends and..."

"Dean," John cut him off, and he couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. If his son only knew the truth. John instantly felt bad when Dean looked hurt. "Dean, son, nothing's further from the truth. Those first few days were one disaster after another. I was in danger of having the power and the phone cut off. Me and Sam were at each other's throats constantly."

"But the sink, the heat, the house," Dean said in confusion.

"The house was a wreck," John admitted. "I had Sam fix it up, I was worried about social services, and no, that was not your fault," John said putting to rest any protest Dean may have had. "He went above and beyond what I asked. He wanted the place spotless for your homecoming. I turned the heat up because the place was cold, I never even considered the power bill. I ended up borrowing money from Joshua, and there was the money you had won. That's what kept us going, that and my job. I fixed the sink, but only after it turned the kitchen into a lake, twice. I'm amazed at how you managed to keep up with the bills."

"I never paid them all at once," Dean explained. "If you make a partial payment they usually leave you alone."

"Now, you tell me," John said with a grin.

"Dean, I may not need you to hold my hand crossing the street, but I'm always going to need my big brother," Sam said sincerely.

"I'm sorry," Dean said again.

"No, boys, I'm the one that's sorry," John said. "The way you both stepped up when I'm away is nothing short of amazing, and I couldn't be a prouder father of both my boys."

"Thanks, dad," both boys said. John's praise was so rare that they both lapped it up.

"We do need to make some changes though. Dean, you need a bit more free time, and Sam you are capable of handling some more responsibility. Therefore, I'm going to divide the housework between you. Right now, Dean, there are a few things you can't do, but I will give you some responsibilities, and then when your cast comes off, you and Sam will divide the chores more equally. That being said, there will be no excuse for not maintaining your grades, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Dean replied.

John grinned, pleased that he had gotten Dean to open up and they had settled some misunderstandings. Bobby had always told him that he needed to communicate with his boys more.

"You can start right now," John said to his eldest. "You can give me a hand with the dishes and then you can make yours and Sammy's lunch for tomorrow."

"I don't think that would be a good idea, tomorrow's Saturday," Dean snarked.

"Smartass. For that you can do the laundry. Sam, you empty the washer and fold."

"Thanks, Dean," Sam said sarcastically.

"Not my fault he's old and losing his memory," Dean teased.

"Do we need to add more chores to that list?" John replied.

"No," Sam added quickly. "He'll be good."

"Promise," Dean replied in a tone that John wasn't sure he trusted. Dean accepted his crutches from his father and got up. He felt like a big weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Hey, Dean, did you spill something on your cast?" Sam asked. When Dean stood up, Sam could see that there were marks on it.

"No," Dean replied, suddenly finding the floor fascinating.

"You told me I couldn't sign your cast, you said that was for little kids," Sam said suddenly, as he went to Dean and pulled up the leg of his sweat pants, revealing the bottom of his cast. He suddenly started laughing. Only his brother!

"What is it?" John asked coming over and inspecting, and then found himself laughing with Sam. The bottom of Dean's cast was covered with girls' phone numbers.

"What?" Dean said feigning innocence. "You won't let me get a black book, dad. I had to improvise."

"Come here, you little rascals," John said, scooping his sons into a big hug. _Mary, I wish you were here. _

_--------_

Things continued to go smoothly for the Winchesters over the next few weeks. John kept his word. He made a schedule that all of them followed.

Sam and Dean weren't naive enough to think that their father had changed completely. They both had no doubt that when Dean's leg was fully healed, their father was going to find a hunt, and things would be back to the way they were before, but they both decided to enjoy it while it lasted.

Sam found, much to his surprise, that he liked having his dad home, and getting a glimpse of what he had probably been like before the fire.

Dean had to admit that it was nice to not have quite so much responsibility at home. He was becoming good friends with Justin, and with his extra time, he had made friends with two of the girls in the mentoring program, Sasha tutored History and Miranda tutored French. He and Justin had gone out on double dates with them a few times. He was even able to put his plan into effect. Justin had told him the football players were scared of him, so he made it known to everyone that he and Justin were friends. He knew it wasn't a permanent solution, but at least it gave Justin some temporary peace.

His leg was even cooperating by healing on schedule, and he was extremely happy when the doctors finally announced that he could have his cast removed.

-----

Dean sat next to his father in the waiting room at the orthopaedic clinic at the local hospital, waiting for his name to be called.

"Dad," Dean asked in a nervous tone. "Do they really use a saw to cut the cast off?"

"Yes," John confirmed. "It's just a small one, though." He had broken his wrist once.

"It's still a saw. Are you sure it's safe? I mean, what if he cuts too deep and cuts my whole leg off?"

"Dean, I'm sure the doctor has done this hundreds of times and I doubt he's lost a limb yet," John said indulgently. He couldn't believe that his son, who had exorcised demons, was scared to have his cast removed.

"Do you know that for sure? I mean, did you have him investigated? What if he's possessed by a demon that likes to collect kid's legs?"

"You're thinking of the tooth fairy," John reminded his son. The Winchester boys never put their teeth under their pillows when they lost them. They knew the truth. The tooth fairy was a witch that stole kids' teeth and used them to make a mask to hide her deformities. "You don't have to worry about the tooth fairy, Bobby and I took her out."

"Dean Winchester," the receptionist's voice called.

"I changed my mind, dad," Dean announced. "I like my cast, and I'm keeping it."

"Okay, son," John said placating his son. "I guess you don't want to drive the Impala anymore."

"That's not fair," Dean pouted.

"Come on, lets get this over with," John encouraged.

"You're coming in, right?" Dean asked sounding like a little boy.

"Let them try and stop me," John replied as he handed Dean his crutches and helped him stand.

"Thanks dad," Dean replied gratefully and followed his father towards the treatment room, only to stop dead when he got near the door.

There were three treatment rooms, and when Dean had started hobbling towards his, he heard a really loud noise come from the room next door. "What the hell is that?" he demanded.

"It's the saw, it's just loud," John said honestly. "Come on," he said nudging Dean forward and forcing him to move again.

"You're going to let them use that on me?" Dean said playing to his father's sympathy.

"Unless you really want to live in that cast, you're going to have to," John said gently. He knew this wasn't the time for teasing. Dean was genuinely nervous. "It sounds worse than it is. I promise."

"Thanks dad," Dean said as he took a deep breath and followed his father inside.

-------

"Hello, Dean," Dr. Andrews, the attending physician, greeted him. He was someone who Dean had seen on his previous checkups. "I'll be removing your cast. Have you ever had one removed before?"

"No," Dean answered truthfully. He had experienced broken ribs, but he'd never broken an arm or a leg before.

"I'm going to get you to change into this gown, then we'll get you on the table and get that cast off. It'll be over before you know it."

"Swell," Dean muttered as he accepted the hated green hospital gown. It showed John just how nervous Dean was when he let his father help him change and get on the table.

"Alright," Dr. Andrew said. "I know this can be nerve wracking, especially with the noise of the saw. It's nothing to feel embarrassed about. I've had grown men cry, and have to be restrained or sedated. Being a little nervous is normal, especially with sharp objects near your body, but I swear I haven't lost a limb yet."

John shot Dean a look that said 'I told you so.' Dean just scowled in return.

"Here," Dr. Andrews said handing Dean and John a pair of earphones. "The saw's really loud. It won't hurt, Dean, but you will feel some heat on your skin. Let me know if it gets too bad."

Dean swallowed nervously and said, "Okay," in a voice so low that they had trouble hearing him.

"The biggest thing I need from you is to lie very still. I'm really good at this, but if you move around, I could accidentally cut you."

"Dad," Dean said looking around for his father.

"Right here, son," John said and grabbed Dean's hand for moral support.

Dr. Andrews turned the saw on so that Dean was comfortable with the noise before he started on his cast.

Dean couldn't help but flinch when he felt the saw touch his cast. He felt the burning sensation Dr. Andrews had warned him about. He still didn't want it anywhere near his leg, and he tried his best not to pull away no matter how much he wanted too. He guessed he wasn't doing a very good job when both the doctor and his father said, very firmly and in unison, "hold still."

Dean doubled his efforts. He squeezed his eyes shut and started humming Metallica. He didn't care if the doctor heard him. It calmed him down.

He heard the saw shut off and the doctor announced that he was done.

Slowly, Dean opened his eyes, fully expecting his leg to be missing when he looked down. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was still attached and relaxed slightly, until he saw a big pair of what liked pliers in the doctor's hand. "What the hell are those?"

"Spreaders. I can't cut all the way through, so I use these to separate the ends of the cast. This may hurt a bit, but the 'don't move' rule is still in place."

"Fine," Dean mumbled, tightened his grip on his father's hand and resumed humming Nothing Else Matters. It did hurt a bit, mostly when he got to the area where Dean's injury was, but it wasn't too bad. He had certainly experienced worse.

John gave a sad smile when he thought the same thing. His boys had experienced way too much pain in their short lives.

"Okay, now I just need to cut the bandages and we're done," Dr. Andrews said brightly.

This part wasn't too bad, it was just a pair of scissors. Dean watched as Dr. Andrews cut away the soft material that protected his skin from the plaster of the cast. "That's quite a collection you have there," Dr. Andrews said referring to the phone numbers. "Any you want to keep?"

"No thank you," Dean replied, a little embarrassed about them.

"The strangest thing I ever saw written on a cast was a novel. It was pretty good actually."

Dean looked down and saw his leg for the first time in weeks. He couldn't believe that was actually his leg he was seeing. It looked skinny and withered. He looked to his father.

"It's normal," John said soothingly. "You haven't used your leg in weeks. It makes sense that your muscles would have atrophied. You'll get full strength and mobility back, kiddo, promise."

"Your father's right," Dr. Andrews said confirming John's words. "It's extremely important that you don't put any weight on that leg. It would never hold you. I'm going to get a wheelchair and take you to x-ray."

"I can walk," Dean insisted. He hated sitting in wheelchairs, even temporarily.

Dr. Andrews refused, saying that there was too much temptation to walk on his leg. Dean tried to protest, but a glare from his father stopped it before he could vocalize it.

It seemed to take forever, but after the x-rays, and a visit to the physical therapy clinic so he could get his brace and PT schedule, Dean was finally released.

The brace was as big and bulky as the cast. It consisted of two large metal rods that ran down the length of Dean's leg, and Velcro straps that wrapped around. The only good thing about it was that there was a catch so that when Dean released it, he could bend his knee. He was able to sit in the front seat of car on the way home.

-------

It was exactly 5 months after the accident when Dean finally got the okay to remove the brace and walk unassisted.

Progress had been slow, and Dean got frustrated easily that he wasn't healing faster, but his brother and his father kept at him, making sure he obeyed all his doctor's orders.

In the time that Dean was working on strengthening his leg, John was working on a surprise of his own. He still felt guilty that he had had to spend all of Dean's prize money, but he just didn't have a thousand dollars to pay him back with. He hoped his surprise would make up for it.

He had called Bobby, who was finished with his latest hunt. He was upset to learn that the boys had been hurt, but he was glad they were okay. He told John that he had just what he was looking for and could get it to him by the time that Dean had his final appointment.

John was grateful that he had such friends, who would do anything for him.

While Dean was at the hospital, Bobby made good on his word and showed up with what John had asked him to bring.

"Are you sure you're doing this the right way, Johnny?" Bobby questioned.

"Dean's always wanted the..."

"I know that," Bobby cut John off. "I just don't think teasing him like this is a good idea."

"He'll be fine," John replied, but he did have some doubts. "He's going to figure it out. Don't worry. I'm going to go pick up Dean. You go get it, and have it waiting for when we get home."

"You got it," Bobby agreed and grabbed the keys to the rental from John. He had to go return it.

"Thanks, Bobby," John replied, and left to go pick up his son.

------

"Hey boys," John called to his sons when he arrived at the hospital to pick up his sons.

"Hey dad, clean bill of health," Dean replied as he climbed into the truck that his father had picked him up in. "Cool truck," he remarked.

"Where did you get it?" Sam asked.

"It's one Bobby had sitting in his yard. I bought it off him and Bobby got her running again," John explained. _Five, four, three, two...._

_"_What about the Impala?" Dean asked as if on cue, and with concern as if he was talking about a member of their family.

"What about it?" John asked playing dumb.

"You said you could repair it."

"I did."

"They why do you need a new truck?" Sam asked playing his part, he was in on the secret.

"The Impala has a new owner. I needed a vehicle to get around," John replied.

"You sold the Impala? Dad how could you... that car... I mean it's..." Dean cried out in disbelief.

"Dean, breathe," John said and berated himself. He should have listened to Bobby. He had really believed that Dean would know who the new owner was. He knew what that car meant to his eldest son, and no matter how bad thing got, he would never give it away or sell it, and he'd had many offers. He was going to wait until he had gotten home, but enough was enough. He pulled an envelope out of his pocket. "I know these last few months haven't been easy, and I want you to know how..."

"You sold the car," Dean muttered again. "She was like a part..."

"Dean, would you let me finish here, son. I want to say that I'm really proud of you and your brother for the way you two stepped up. While I wish I could give you your thousand dollars back, I can't, so I'm hoping you'll take this as compensation."

Dean accepted the envelope from his father, opened it up and pulled out the Impala's key. He looked to his father. Had his dad just done what he thought he had?

"Dad..."

"Yeah, kiddo, she's all yours. I expect you to..." That was as far as he got.

"You mean it? She's mine, like for real, and forever," Dean said afraid to believe it.

"As long as you take..."

"I'll take real good care of her, dad. I promise," Dean said excitedly. "When do we get her back?"

"I think she's at home waiting for you," John promised and pulled up in the driveway. Sure enough, the Impala was in the driveway, gleaming as if she had just come off the showroom floor.

Dean jumped out the truck and ran to inspect his car. He couldn't believe she was his. He had never really believed his father would give her to him. He couldn't wait to get behind the wheel.

"Thanks dad," Dean said again as he went up to his father and gave him a great, big, bear hug.

"Hey, kid, it's nice to see you too."

In his excitement, Dean had completely missed the fact that Bobby was standing next to the car.

"Hey, Bobby," Dean greeted him as he accepted a hug from the older hunter. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, son."

"Want to go for a ride in my new wheels?" Dean asked his family.

"Tomorrow. I heard from Sam that you have plans tonight," Bobby said.

Dean had almost completely forgotten that he and Justin were double dating tonight. "Thanks for reminding me, Sammy."

"No problem, Dean," Sam replied. "You can take me for a ride tomorrow as well," Sam offered. He knew that his brother probably wouldn't want him along on a double date.

"Sure, call your friends, they can come with us," Dean offered.

John stood on the porch about an hour later and watched Dean get into his car and drive off for his date. He felt a little melancholy that he no longer owned the Impala. He'd had that car since before he'd gotten engaged to Mary when some stranger convinced him to buy it.

It had been the one constant in their lives since Mary had died. It had become a home, of sorts, for the Winchesters. They had driven across country and back in it, had slept in it when they had no money for hotels. The car had saved their lives, acting as a getaway car, speeding them to the hospital, and John was fully convinced that she had greatly reduced the injuries the boys had received in the accident. It was reliable, and dependable and always there when they needed it.

John smiled as he realized that it was only fitting that Dean have the car. After all, he was always there, just like she was.

"Look after him, okay," John whispered and walked back in the house.

THE END.

I hope everyone enjoyed the ending. Please read and review and let me know.


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